Clinging to Illusions
by YourGuardianAngel08
Summary: A potent trick leaves the Avengers convinced Peter is killed in a brutal fight and there's nothing they can do to fix it. That leaves them - especially Tony - to learn how to deal with that new, dark reality. And while they try to adjust, Peter is left trying to survive on his own until he can find a way to escape or someone realizes what happened. Irondad/Spiderson, whump!Peter.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey everyone,**

**Full disclosure, this is a republished story I had started about a week ago and subsequently deleted. **

**Here's what happened: I went back and reread the first two chapters and I realized I didn't like the way I was setting up the story. I think, as the writer, I knew too much about what was happening and I left too much out from the reader's perspective, which made it into a very different story than what I wanted it to be. So I deleted the story and this is the republished version.**

**Just a little background: If anyone has followed along with the loose universe I have written (not necessary for this to make sense) this will be the last story in that series. It takes place about eleven or so years after Thanos. Tony and Natasha are still alive, Steve's still around and Morgan is a boy (I wrote that before Endgame). Tony is still the backer for the Avengers but as he's gotten older, he's continued to step back and hand it over to the others. He and Peter have an established father/son relationship that they both freely acknowledge. Peter's become a leader in the Avengers but he's still protecting New York, and he and Michelle are still together. I think that's about all you need to know for this story, at least for right now!**

**It's not much of an author's not but it's all I have for right now so I hope you...**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

It was early morning when Michelle woke up to an aggressive knocking on the door.

Groaning as she peeled her face away from the book she had fallen asleep on, it was only then that she realized Peter still wasn't home yet. He always woke her up if she had fallen asleep. Still, it was dark out so maybe he was just still out. Puzzled but not particularly worried, Michelle groggily rolled off the couch and stumbled to the door. She rubbed at her burning eyes with her fist as she unlocked the door and pulled it open. Immediately, her eyes were drawn to the impeccably shined shoes in her doorway. Confusion forced her to look up at her visitor.

She met Tony's gaze. Tony who had a key and had still decided to knock her out of sleep.

His voice was soft when he murmured, "Michelle…"

Michelle dropped her hand and reacted viscerally to Tony's concern because she could _feel_ it. Not only did he use her full name but as she forced herself to focus, she realized his shoes were the only thing that looked normal about him. His clothes were disheveled, his hair was tousled, his eyes were red.

Tony couldn't bring himself to tell her what he needed to, he didn't know how. Instead, he tiptoed around the obvious and choked out, "I need to talk to you."

It was only then that she realized he had been crying. Now that she had worked the sleep out of her eyes, she recognized tear tracks on his cheeks and could hear the unnatural thickness of his voice. Michelle couldn't stop the concern in her voice when she asked, "What is it? What's wrong?"

Tony felt his gut twist painfully, as though it was trying to tie up every part of his insides. His heart was already crushed, what were a few more organs? He coughed a couple of times and then pushed out, "Peter…he…" Tony closed his eyes as a painful grimace tore across his face. And the reason for his disheveled appearance was clear when he ran a hand through his hair and fidgeted with the hem of his jacket.

Michelle had been concerned by his appearance but now she was terrified. Still, doing the only thing she could to try and speed this along, she said, "Do you...want to come inside?"

"No." Tony answered bluntly, appreciating the ability to just say something. Then he opened his eyes and looked directly into her widened ones, ordering, "Because we're leaving." Tony knew what he was about to say had no simple direction, no sugarcoating. It was terrible and the sooner he said it, the sooner he could get back to what he really needed to do. So Tony brusquely forced out, "Michelle, Peter's dead." Tony swallowed hard as tears sprang back into his eyes. He wiped furiously at them before he elaborated, "He was killed a couple of hours ago. And now I need to get you out of here."

Michelle's brain stopped.

She couldn't think of a better word for what happened when she heard that combination of words. Because there was no way that was true. She had to be dreaming or hallucinating or...something. High, maybe? Michelle pulled her head back and shook it, vehemently denying what he had just told her. Her disbelief and discombobulation came through clearly when she stuttered through a response, "No. What? That's…no. That's not true. Why would you say that?" Michelle felt very close to what she assumed going truly crazy felt like: her ears were buzzing, her brain became mush in her skull – her thoughts were impossible to keep straight – her eyes were watering and she couldn't come up with a concrete reason why because that statement simply wasn't true. She was not going to accept that, which must mean that she was in fact, going crazy. Or that this was just a really bad nightmare that she for some reason was not waking up from.

Tony recognized denial. He had done the same thing when he had seen Peter's twisted, broken body but even Michelle had to face the real world. Still, he could try to make that easier, he stepped forward and wrapped his son's fiancée in a hug, something that had always worked well for Peter…

But not for Michelle. She shoved Tony away from her and spat, "Don't. Touch. Me. Don't come here, tell me Peter is dead, and then try to hug me. I don't know what kind of fucked up joke you're playing but you had better tell me right now what the fuck is going on."

Tony's face fell. He had been hoping to be able to get through to Michelle a little faster so they could get back to the Compound, to the others, to figure out what was going on and who he was going to have to kill now that someone thought it was a good idea to take his son away from him. But then Michelle pushed him away and spat at him. He had thought that action would help and he could feel the defeat of that interaction force his shoulders down farther.

A small part of Michelle almost felt bad when she saw Tony physically deflate at her rejection but she couldn't let herself show that. She couldn't because this couldn't be true and the sooner he dropped the act the sooner she could find out whose idea it was and then kick their ass. Or the sooner she could wake up.

Tony let out a stuttered breath before he explained, "There was a fight, a bad fight. They called themselves..." He visibly tried to recall the name but couldn't so instead just spat, "Oh fuck I don't remember." Tony paused as he scrubbed his hand over his exhausted face, a few more tears slipping down his cheeks. His voice was thick when he explained, "But Peter he...he just…couldn't keep up. He called us but it was too late. When we got there…he was…already dead."

The rational part of Michelle knew he was telling the truth, Tony's expression was impossible to fake but she couldn't let it be true so she grasped at straws and insisted,"But then you helped him. You got him back. You've done that before."

Tony shook his head, agony clear on his face, "No, MJ, we didn't. He's gone and I need to get you out of here because they knew who he was. They knew his name and they knew his face, which means they know you and I'll be damned if I let them come after you too. So we're leaving."

Michelle finally felt her tears start to fall as that rational part of her screamed he was telling the truth and then forced her to recall all the injuries she had ever seen Peter come home with. She looked hard at the ground and whispered, "I can't…I can't leave…what if…"

Tony's voice was gentle but firm when he cut her off, "He's not coming back, MJ and I swear to god you're leaving this apartment if I have to drag you out. It's not safe, you can't stay here." Tony reached forward and laid his hand on her arm, careful of her previous reaction. She didn't pull away this time.

Michelle looked at the hand and then up into the face of Peter's dad, her voice wavered when she asked, "This is real? This isn't a nightmare?"

Tony chewed on his lip as a few more tears fell and he shook his head, unable to say anything else.

Michelle lost her thread of composure then and she reached out to Tony because he was the only one she had left. Tony wrapped her up tightly and let her cry into his chest for a few minutes, his own tears escaping as he tried to figure out when they crossed the threshold that maybe they should have gone into the apartment. He scanned the hallway through watery eyes trying to watch for anything out of the ordinary. Thankfully, it was still early enough that no one was out. After a few minutes, he forced himself to find his composure and he gently pushed her away from him. His voice was kind but firm when he said, "We have to go, MJ."

Michelle nodded and rubbed at her eyes a few times to try and deal with the tears. It didn't work but she stepped forward and closed the door behind her anyway.

Tony shot her a puzzled glance and asked, "Don't you want your phone? Your keys...anything?"

Michelle flicked her eyes up to him before she sighed, stepped back inside, and grabbed a key off the table. She locked the door quickly, pocketed the key, and looked back up at Tony.

Tony awkwardly gestured at what she was wearing. He wanted to leave but he also wanted her to be somewhat comfortable. He asked tentatively, "Clothes…anything else?"

Michelle shook her head, "I've got clothes in our...in his...in Peter's…" Michelle choked on the name before she swallowed and finished her thought, "room at the Compound." She coughed deep in her throat and composed herself before she asked, "I'm assuming that's where we're going?"

Tony nodded thoughtfully at the young woman in front of him and he felt another pang of loss for her. Then he murmured, "Let's go. The car's downstairs."

Michelle followed him obediently down the stairs and climbed into the car. She was oddly thankful when she realized even the front windows were darkly tinted. She slipped into the passenger side and waited for Tony to get in. As soon as he did, she looked over and asked flatly, "What about May?"

Tony glanced out the window to make sure the wasn't any traffic and as he pulled out, he explained, "Happy's picking her up now…she's coming back to the Compound too." His voice was disaffected and the tears had gathered again in his eyes.

* * *

**I'm tweaking the second chapter now so I'll have that up in a little bit, if you already read it, I'm sorry but my hope is that you'll like the changes I'm making!**

**Let me know what you thought in the reviews!**

**I hope you have a wonderful day/night and stay creative!**

**-Lily**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey everyone,**

**This is the tweaked second chapter that I promised at the end of the last one.**

**Hopefully this works a bit better for you guys.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"Shit." Tony swore under his breath before he jerked the wheel more dramatically than he should have and caused the driver in the car next to him to honk their displeasure.

Michelle listened silently as Tony took out his obvious anger in verbal attacks on the people around them. It scared her a little but she really couldn't bring herself to say anything. He shouldn't be driving, she knew that, but she also knew that she wouldn't be able to process driving right now either.

"Goddammit." Tony growled as he sped around a driver who was going far too slow for his car's capabilities. His hands were gripped knuckle white on the steering wheel as he progressively got more violent.

The intermittent cursing only served to worsen Michelle's thoughts because with every viper-like hiss, her reverie would shift around some horrifying iteration of the phrase 'Peter is dead'. And no matter how that terrible information was presented, she couldn't wrap her head around it. Probably because her brain wasn't really working. For it to be working, it would have had to come up with something other than a variation on a single sentence.

Her stomach though, that was doing an effective job of reminding her of everything her brain couldn't quite process. The longer she was in the car and the more often she heard the phantom reminder, 'Peter is dead', the sicker she felt. Her stomach twisted with each new repetition and forced just a bit more bile up her throat. She wanted to ask Tony what happened but at the same time, she was petrified of the answer.

"Fuck you, jackass." Tony fumed as he tore around a bend and another driver, causing a driver in an oncoming lane to flash their brights and blare their horn in surprise.

It was then that Michelle's brain finally chose to process Tony's vicious anger. She'd only ridden with him a few times but she had never seen any instance of road rage, he normally enjoyed driving. That forced her to ask a question she had been unconsciously avoiding, how badly had Peter been injured before he...died? It was obvious Tony had seen it. That led her down an even darker path and she couldn't help but wonder, had they brought him home?

As soon as that acknowledgement crossed her mind, Michelle threw her hand up to her mouth as she violently heaved into her fist.

* * *

Tony's memory was grating on his nerves.

He wanted to be done driving. He wanted to be at home, where he could wrap his youngest son in his arms, grab his wife, and lock them all away. And try to figure out how he was going to deal with Peter's death. But the longer he drove, the more obvious the slowly simmering anger sitting deep in his soul became. Someone had killed his son. And it was that thought that ricocheted, with increasing frequency, around his head. He gripped the wheel as tightly as he could and only belatedly realized he wanted to cause pain. He wanted someone else to understand his heart-break. The contradiction left him even more frustrated.

The slow buildup of that anger continued until Tony was yanked out of his fury-driven single mindedness when Michelle retched into her hand. He had almost forgotten she was there and there was a brief moment when he had to remember exactly when she got into his car but it passed in a heartbeat. Instead, his pissed voice morphed into something far more compassionate when he hurriedly asked, "MJ? Are you alright?"

Michelle knew there was no way she was going to get away with getting sick in his car, thankfully she managed to push it back down but apparently not quietly enough to hide her distress from Tony. She heard his concern and that blended with the narrative still running through her mind. All of it solidified into her deceptively simple mutter, "No."

Her answer hung in the air for a moment as neither really knew what to do with it. They weren't alright. They both knew that, but in an effort to end the silence or just to voice something, Michelle blurted out what had caused the sickness, "Were you able to bring him home?"

Tony didn't quite catch that unexpected question and stuttered, "What?"

Michelle swallowed hard when she heard Tony's confusion so she bluntly asked, "Do you have his body?" As soon as she finished the question, she felt that burn threatening again.

Tony grimaced and then quietly whispered, "Yes."

That response caused tears to spring freshly back into her eyes. He was dead. Peter was dead and she was going to have to see his body and know that her life had fundamentally changed for the worse. But paradoxically, that knowledge gave her something to focus on. _Someone_ had killed him and she'd be damned if they were going to get away with it without some kind of fight from her. She might not be able to take them on physically but she could help his family..._their_ family...find the people who had done this. She took a few more moments to composure herself before she quietly whispered, "What happened, Tony?"

The older man sighed. His shoulders dropped from where they had been hiked around his ears and all the searing anger slipped out of his voice. Instead, he just sounded tired when he explained, "Honestly, we're still working on that. It happened a couple of hours ago. There were five…maybe six of them…I think…and they just..." Tony paused as his eyes drifted back to the road for a moment before he murmured, "They pummeled him."

Tony looked back over at Michelle then, his voice thicker when he kept going, "Pete's strong...was strong...but with that much…he didn't have a chance." In an effort to hide the tears that tried to betray him, he looked back at the road and forced out, "I can't even tell you what they did to him…" Tony trailed off, unable to fully finish what he was saying.

Michelle listened to the obvious agony before her own morbid curiosity forced her to ask, "Who were they?"

Tony sighed heavily again as the speedometer slowed, relatively. He wasn't sure if he wanted to tell her but at the same time he knew that she would keep going until she got her answers so he decided against hiding it. He murmured, "I don't even know their names. Not all of them. One of them was dressed in green with four huge arms that looked like they were coming out of his back."

Michelle quietly hummed, "Doc Ock."

Tony didn't hear her, he was so caught up in what he was seeing in his own mind that he just kept going, "Some weird sandy son-of-a-bitch, he was hard as hell to hit."

That one Michelle didn't know...did Tony say sandy?

Tony's voice caught a little more when he said, "That freak who used electricity, the one Pete heard about a few weeks ago? His fucking suit was electrified, it stopped mine from working." Then he added with a pained snarl, "I couldn't help."

Michelle caught the guilt in his voice and she glanced sadly at him, he didn't deserve any of this pain either. She abortedly whispered, "Electro."

Tony threw his hand off the steering wheel and gave a broad, sweeping gesture when he added with sarcasm, "And Vulture is apparently back in town, remember him? He was one of your classmate's dads or some bullshit like that."

"Liz," Michelle muttered.

That, for whatever reason, Tony heard and he asked, "What do you know about these people?"

Michelle sighed when she realized that she probably wasn't going to know much more than Tony but she wanted to help so she explained, "I mean, I know a little from what Peter's told me. I remember Vulture from high school. You said his daughter...her name is Liz. We went to school with her for a while, Peter had a crush on her. All I know is that she left at the end of our sophomore year. As far as I know, Peter hasn't kept in touch with her."

None of that was relevant though and Michelle forced herself back on track, "He called the electrified one Electro, it's not original, but he's new, I don't think Peter's ever fought him, just heard about him. The sand guy…did you actually say sand?" When Tony nodded, she shrugged and continued, "He's new to me. I don't think Peter knew anything about him. And the last one, the guy with the arms, Peter called him Doc Ock. He's seen him...twice before and the first time he tore him up pretty badly."

Tony abruptly turned to her, his foot lifting slightly off the gas in his focus on her. Peter had been injured a few weeks ago but the way she said that made it sound much worse than what he knew. He furrowed his brows before he asked, "What'd you mean?"

"About…" Michelle took a second to calculate the time before she continued, "Three weeks ago, he came home badly injured, worse than I've ever seen. It was the first time I was really...scared. I tried to help him the best I could but he kept telling me not to call you. I almost did when he passed out but it wasn't for long and I got the worst of it stitched. I think I stayed up the rest of the night with your name pulled up on my phone just in case. But he was okay by the morning."

Michelle shivered when she remembered that but she forced herself to continue, "He said it was a guy who had huge claws off his back. Peter called him Doc Ock because he thought he looked like Otto Octavius. He was one of Peter's professors in school."

Tony sighed as he pressed a hand to his mouth. He held it there for a moment before he dropped it and murmured, "Now that you say that, I remember. Pete told me about him when I helped him fix his suit after. But he wasn't so forthcoming on those details. The suit was pretty badly damaged but he didn't tell me how bad it was for him."

Michelle shrugged before she murmured, "You know how his is with that..." The present tense of the infinitive was contradicted by the sorrow in the car and Michelle closed her eyes as she absentmindedly whispered, "Was...was with that."

Tony nodded his empathy before he continued in a much more subdued tone, "Mysterio was there too. I know I saw that green and gold bastard." Tony smirked wickedly as he continued, "I hit him at least once. _Him_, not one of his damn projections."

Michelle couldn't help the hope that swelled in her chest when she heard Mysterio's name, this was definitely something he would do. That boon grew until she couldn't keep that hope down. She asked optimistically, "Are you sure Peter's dead? Mysterio's done stuff like that before...made Peter think things that weren't real were..."

Tony's tears started to fall then and he grimly nodded a few times before he turned toward her and gently explained, "I got to him just before he died, Michelle. Trust me, I wish I was wrong. I wish to God I was wrong."

The car ride lapsed back into silence.

Tony's anger had subsided a bit and while he was still driving faster and more erratically than he should, his commentary on the skill of the other drivers ebbed as the catharsis of sharing took its toll.

Michelle sat in silence and watched the road pass by her again. Her fingers closed gently around her black dahlia necklace, twisting it on its chain as she attempted to reconcile her new reality. Unfortunately, she didn't get much farther than she had before because Peter was still dead.

* * *

As the silhouette of the Compound rose out of the road, it was against a deep, bloody red sunrise that mocked their shared, solitary agony.

When they finally pulled into the garage, the familiarity reminded Michelle of something she should have asked a few hours ago. Her voice was quiet when she guilty intoned, "Does Mo know?"

Tony turned and slowly shook his head. Then he continued with a thick voice, "I don't know how to tell him and I wanted to make sure you were safe before I tried. And unless one of the others said something, Pepper doesn't know either, and I'm not sure if Happy was going to tell May."

Michelle nodded thoughtfully before she offered, "Do you want me to talk to him?"

"Maybe just be there?" Tony asked with a faint hope.

"Of course."

Hush fell over the still running car as Tony paused with his fingers on the keys, his gaze on the dashboard. She watched him lost in thought for a few moments before something else belatedly occurred to her and she quietly asked, "Why do you think they would come after me? If Peter's dead, what good am I?"

Tony shrugged as he finally turned off the car's engine and the missing hum was immediately apparent. But instead of getting out, Tony turned fully and answered with a conviction only a parent can summon, "I honestly don't know and there's a chance they would've never come after you. But I wasn't willing to bet on that." His gaze flicked across her face before he continued, "I know you can protect yourself but now Pete's not here to watch your back and if something happened to you, I wouldn't be able to deal with it."

Then his voice turned deadly serious, "For right now, you're home. No arguments. Pete wouldn't want you hurt so if I can protect you until we know what's going on, I'm going to." Without another word, he awkwardly climbed out of the car, waiting for her to do the same.

* * *

His world came back to him slowly.

The first thing he consciously recognized was that he was cold, frigidly cold.

Slowly, because that was all he could muster, he tried to work through what that could mean. As his grey matter functioned at half Dum-ee's capacity, Peter realized his mind was dealing with the same icy grip as the rest of his body. In the few minutes he took to try and _think_, all he could process was the fact that he was lying on his back with his arms splayed out to the sides. And he was cold.

In a desperate, instinctual attempt to be warmer, Peter slowly turned to his side while simultaneously dragging his arms and legs in toward his core.

At least that was the plan.

Unfortunately, he didn't get far because even his first few aborted movements shot unimaginable pain through his body. It was as though every nerve ending was opened up to fresh air and rubbed with salt at the same time. In shock, his eyes shot open and his breath hitched but that didn't last for longer than a few seconds before he rolled boneless onto his back. Peter's head lulled to the side as his consciousness fled.

* * *

**That's all I have for now. Feel free to let me know what you thought in the reviews. **

**I hope you all have a wonderful day/night and stay creative! **

**-Lily**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey everyone,**

**I don't have much of an author's note except to say that if you are reading Whatever It Takes, I'm working on the last chapter for that, I just needed to get this one out first. **

**Also, if you're reading this story, thank you so much and I hope you...**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Michelle sat for a moment in the car digesting the seriousness of Tony's tone because she wanted to argue. She hadn't bothered questioning why she should go with him, had just done it. Hadn't questioned how they knew Peter was dead, just accepted it. Hadn't forced him to come into her apartment and explain what was going on. Instead, she had just accepted what he had said and she hated it. But at the time, it had been difficult to refuse his urgency. And a part of her couldn't help but be impressed by his dedication. She debated arguing again but brushed it off when she realized it wouldn't help anything. When she finally glanced up, she saw him awkwardly bent at the waist, staring at her through the window. Sighing, she climbed out of the car and started to follow his retreating back toward the elevator. She was faster than him though and she caught up just at the doors. As the elevator dinged open, Michelle whispered, "What're you…what're we gonna do?"

Tony's expression was hard when he stared at her as he stepped instead and snarled, "I'm going to find the people who did this and I'm gonna kill 'em."

Michelle studied the door for just a few moments before she met his gaze and asked, "Can I help?"

Tony's eyes narrowed and his voice was hesitant when he explained, "Maybe...but let us figure out what's going on before I commit to anything, you might not be able to help."

The elevator dinged a few floors, Tony's half-promise hung in the air, and Michelle stood awkwardly silent, trying to figure out how to ask her next question. Finally, after she spent some time studying her fingers, there was a final ding announcing their arrival followed by the normal, gentle rock as the elevator stopped. It was only then the Michelle blurted out, "Can I see him?"

Tony looked over at her in surprise, missing the doors opening but still instinctually reaching out to hit the 'door close' button. The look of surprise shifted to a sorrowful one and Tony gave her an answer he knew he shouldn't, "I don't know that you want to, MJ."

Michelle heard the warning in his tone and despite the fear it generated, she ignored it, "I need to though. I need to know he's dead because right now it kind of feels like you're going to tell me this is some elaborate plan to lure out someone who hurt him and you're just keeping up appearances for some reason. If Peter is dead, I need to see him." She swallowed hard and dug in her heels before she said, "I need to know."

"MJ…" Tony warned more bluntly this time.

But she needed to do this. She understood he was trying to protect her but she couldn't let this one go. She was empathetic but determined when she rebuffed, "Please don't do that Tony, I'm not a child and I'm not yours to protect. If he's dead, I can't just take your word for it."

Tony sighed. He got it, wouldn't believe it either if he hadn't seen it. Still, he knew what his son's body looked like and he didn't want Michelle to have to see that. His voice was soft when he warned, "I'm going to tell you now, they hurt him badly."

Michelle shot him a deadpanned stare before she snapped, "Tony, they killed him, I'm imagining pain was only a small part of that."

Tony clenched his teeth at her bluntness before he breathed out through his nose, his nostrils flaring in frustration before he said, "Fine. Let us finish what we need to and I'll make sure you're able to see him before the day is over."

Michelle reached across and hit the door open button before she demanded, "I'm coming with you for that too, I want to help catch whoever did this." Without waiting for an answer, she stepped out of the cab.

Tony watched her determined gait in surprise and had to hurry up to catch up with her. When he did, he quickly said, "MJ, you can't come into the meeting right now. You have to wait until we've had a chance to figure out what's going on."

"But Peter's told me everything, I know the people you're talking about." Michelle argued but knew it was a moot point. Peter might have told her everything about what he did but there was always Avengers stuff he was a little more cagey about.

Tony sighed but tried to be understanding, the slight pleading undertone noticeable when he compromised, "I know that and they'll want to talk to you about everything but right now, you need to stay out here."

"Fine." Michelle growled, looking around until she caught sight of one of the chairs off to the side, in some kind of gathering area. She took a step backward, still holding Tony's attention when she said, "But I'm not going to wait forever. I want to help."

Tony just nodded before he stepped away from her, slipping into a door that lead to where the others had gathered. Once he was in the hallway outside the meeting room, he fell back against the wall and pressed his hand to his head before he shakily said, "FRIDAY, make sure she doesn't get in here until we're ready for her."

"Got it, boss."

Tony winked up at the ceiling trying to compose himself as tears sprang back to his eyes. Knowing he needed to focus with a bit less emotion, he tried to reach back to who he was before Iron Man and before his family. He needed some of that cocky, self-assured attitude that he had been so good at projecting. Taking a few deep breaths before he felt like he had that handled, Tony threw open the door and snarled, "So what are we doing about the bastards who killed my kid?"

Honestly, that mentality had been a long shot anyway but maybe pissed off father would work just as well.

All eyes immediately snapped to him but it was Natasha who spoke with her patient urgency, "Did you get MJ? May?"

Tony flicked his hand up toward the door, "MJ's here and Happy's on his way in with May. MJ's currently locked out but I'm not totally convinced that she won't find a way to get FRIDAY to let her in so we better have some kind of answer for her when we're done."

All gazes flicked across the table indiscriminately before Steve braved breaking the silence. His shoulders dropped and his voice was tired when he admitted, "We don't have anything Tony. They're gone as far as we can tell. We lost them somewhere over the Atlantic."

Tony's anger flared and he snapped, "What do you mean, we lost them? How the hell is it possible that my systems lost someone?" Tony growled as he clenched his hands into fists on the table. No one really had an answer for that. And he had no right to expect them to because if he couldn't explain it, they shouldn't be able to either. The only person who would have been able to offer an actual hypothesis was dead. That realization made Tony angrier and he asked incredulously, "So you're telling me, I can't find the people who killed Peter because we can't track them? Why the hell didn't someone follow them?"

Steve recognized this fury, he had seen it once before only this he understood it and he kept his voice even when he tried to explain, "We weren't ready for that Tony, you know that. We had one jet and you were down."

Tony growled again before he unhelpfully snapped, "Yah that's not good enough, Rogers."

Rhodey took a step toward his friend, he hadn't been in the fight but the others had filled him in. Rhodey laid a hand on Tony's arm and murmured, "That's not fair to say, Tony. We're all upset about what happened."

Tony knew he was getting angrier than he should have. He knew this was difficult, obviously it was, but he couldn't crush the paternal instinct that told him to fight. To hurt. Anyone he could find. His instinct won and he mocked, "Oh you feel upset, do you? Why don't you tell me about it? And then when you're done you can go tell his fiancée and his brother and his aunt how bad you feel that we didn't have his back." His voice had slipped into a vicious snarl.

Steve took a step forward and warned, "Tony..."

"Don't." Tony shot back even though he needed him to start. He needed to find some kind of footing because it was in that moment that he knew he was floundering. And he kept talking, "Don't warn me off. Don't patronize me. We need to do this, we need to kill these people. All of them. Painfully." Tony's eyes were blazing when he threatened, "If you're not going to help me then I'll track them down myself."

Ever the pragmatist, Natasha chose to ignore the discussion of murder and deescalate the situation in a calmer voice, "Tony, we're not saying we're done. We're not saying we're giving up but we're saying we need another way. It's not a cop out or an excuse, it's just where we are right now."

Tony couldn't argue with that. It just wasn't possible because he needed help. Tony threw up his hand wearily as sadness fought passed his anger and he realized that fighting wasn't going to fix anything. It never did. What had he told Steve? Anger was corrosive?

Unfortunately, so was loss.

Tony scrubbed his hands over his face and forced himself to take a deep breath. When he looked back up at Steve and passed his gaze over the others, he started, "Sorry, I just…"

Steve shook his head, dismissing Tony's awkward apology, "You don't have to apologize, Tony. But you have to remember that we're a team. Peter was a part of our team and we all are hurt by what happened."

Tony's expression shifted from apology to hurt as he murmured, "But I lost him…"

Steve stepped forward and uncharacteristically put his hand on Tony's shoulder before empathizing, "We all lost him." The super soldier ignored the look Tony shot him and the way Tony's shoulder tensed because he knew making it only about Tony's loss wouldn't help. Steve continued, "And we all want to help you deal with it and find the people who are responsible. But that means you have to treat us like a team, not blame us."

Tony's shoulders dropped heavily and he whispered, "I know."

The room lapsed into silence for a time before Tony eventually looked up and asked, "So where does that leave us?"

"No where." Was the resounding answer.

* * *

The next time Peter woke up, it was with a jolt.

And he immediately wished he could pass back out when his vision narrowed into a pinprick and his stomach rolled as pain hit him full force.

Peter curled tightly over his burning chest, tucking his hands close in a way that offered paradoxical relief and bitter pain. When he pressed his hand to his chest, he groaned in agony before he made an altogether more threatening realization. He didn't have his suit.

Forcing his eyes open, Peter snapped his gaze down and noticed that he was wearing a simple t-shirt and sweatpants. His attention darted around the room as he tried to find the familiar red and blue of his favorite suit but he couldn't find it in visible range. He assumed it would be the same if he dragged himself into the darkened corners.

Then the reality of his situation hit him. Hard. He had nothing and he felt his chest tighten in a way well beyond physical pain. He sucked in a deep breath, ignoring the sharp stabbing pain his broken body shot through his core. He held the air in as it became increasingly difficult to release it or take in more. His chest burned hotter and he knew he was panicking. He immediately flashed back to the last time he had been locked in a room by himself.

His dad had gotten him out that time. Peter's hand instinctively went to his wrist, where his watch normally sat but he just hit bare skin. They must have taken everything mechanical. It was a smart move even if it screwed him over.

That panic built, threatening to end whatever they were going to do by killing him in the middle of the cement floor.

But Peter's instinct was good, being Spider-Man for well over thirteen years had its advantages. He let himself panic for a few minutes and then he forced the air he was holding in his lungs out. It took a concerted effort but it happened. Once the air was out of his lungs, it made it slightly easier to take more in. He followed this pattern until the only crushing agony in his chest was his shifting ribs.

His dad would come get him.

He'd save him. And if he couldn't, Peter had gotten out of worse situations. He would just have to heal a bit before that happened. He had to stay positive.

And he had to pay attention.

Tony and the others were probably already looking for him. He tried to figure out how long he had been unconscious and while it was impossible to actually pinpoint a time, he knew it had to be long enough for Michelle to have called for help. And she wouldn't stop until she got ahold of someone.

Eventually someone would get him and then he would have to deal with another long lecture from his dad about calling for help before the situation got so bad.

Not that he would actually mind that right now. At least it would mean that he was home and not with people who wanted to hurt him.

* * *

It was only a few hours later when Toomes sauntered into his cell.

"I knew I would eventually see you again..." he drawled as he leaned down into Peter's face. "I actually protected your dumbass for a while in prison." Then without warning, he straightened and kicked Peter hard in the stomach. Peter collapsed over the injury in shock as it jarred every injury individually in a cascading ripple.

As Peter caught his breath, Toomes mocked, "You know no one's coming for you right, Pedro?"

Peter actually growled in response before he spat a wad of blood and mucus onto the floor at Toomes's feet. Mouth clear, he defiantly snarled, "When they get here, they're going to tear you apart. Assuming I don't do that first."

But Toomes simply smiled before sniping, "Yah see that's not going to happen." He saw Peter's face slip slightly in confusion before he continued, "We got confirmation that they think you're dead so they're not even looking for you."

Peter was subconsciously shaken by the self-assured delivery. If his family thought he was dead, they would have been looking for his killers, wouldn't they? And if no one else would help him, Tony would look, right?

Then, without warning, the room around him shifted. It wasn't his dank cell, it was softly lit and looked like a bastardization of his living room and when Peter glanced to where Toomes had been, he saw him but it was like he had been expanded. He was huge and his smile was stretched and elongated, his eyes small pinpricks where they were crushed up toward the top of his head. It was wrong and disorienting and definitely horrifying. The mouth widened exaggeratedly when he questioned, "You really don't believe me, Pedro?"

Then Toomes tossed his head up and ordered, "Keep watching."

Sniffling in the corner caught his attention and Peter spun away from Toomes, his gaze catching a grayed out Michelle curled up and crying on a couch. Peter crept toward her, his hand held out in front of him. When he got close enough, the light from the TV caught his attention.

The stoic reporter stared into the camera before announcing, "We have breaking news. The crime-fighting vigilante who has long protected the New York neighborhood of Queens, known as Spider-Man, was declared dead as of an hour ago." His face fell slightly before he continued, "We still have not received any statement from the Avengers but the story was corroborated by the NYPD."

Toomes started laughing and growing larger as he stomped toward Michelle. Peter saw his intent and tried to get there first, turning toward Michelle, desperate to cover her before Toomes could get to her. But he didn't get close enough before four metallic arms darted out of the dark wall just over her head. Two metal claws pierced his shoulders while the others punctured his stomach below his ribs. The arms carried him backward into the wall, pinning him there as the world around him shifted sickeningly.

Michelle crumbled into pieces.

"MJ!" Peter screamed as he reached out from where he was pinned.

He felt his stomach flip when the arms yanked him forward and launched him through the air, throwing him through the apartment window. He broke the glass and rolled onto the ruined, blackened landscape of Wakanda. Peter tumbled and rolled to a stop on his hands and knees in the middle of a pile of battlefield dead.

Once he got his eyes to stop watering from the sheer pain of the wounds, Peter managed to focus his gaze on the battered face of Natasha under his hands. Jumping in terror, Peter fell onto his butt and scrambled backward. He didn't get far before his hands hit something metallic. Then Toomes was back again, towering over the field and teasing, "Why don't you look behind you, Pedro?"

Peter's hands started to shake and he turned slowly. He caught the gleam of red almost immediately and he forgot about stealth, instead whipping the rest of the way to catch the dead Iron Man armor at his back, the nanobot core in the center of Tony's chest was cold. Dim. Without conscious thought, Peter yanked the mask away.

Tony's cold, dead eyes stared up at the sky. Unblinking. Unmoving. Thoroughly dead.

Peter fell backward again, whispering, "No. No. No."

But then the floor dropped out from under him.

Peter fell though layers of stone and glass that shifted colors in a kaleidoscope of confusion. It left him disoriented and unable to find a handhold before he landed heavily on his back on concrete floor.

Peter immediately tried to pull in a deep breath out of sheer unconscious reaction but he couldn't get his lungs to fill with air.

He opened his mouth to try again but it didn't work and instead he gaped like a fish out of water. In a desperate attempt to unfreeze his lungs, Peter tried to get his hands under him. As he struggled, Michelle appeared above him again.

"Peter!" She yelled before the leopard-clad man who was holding her let go. Michelle dropped, arms pin wheeling as she tried to grab onto something. Peter fought hard passed his inability to breath and jumped to a crouch, launching himself toward her. As she was about to hit his arms, his world shifted again.

Into an abyss.

There was nothing in front of him. Nothing behind him. It was just a void of inky darkness. His senses failed him and he pressed his two fingers into the pad of his palm instinctually but he had no webbing to save himself. There was nothing to grab on to and no one to catch. It was just blackness.

Still, Peter tried to reach out until his momentum failed. Peter flailed as he reached the apex of his jump and gravity took over. Then the void populated suddenly and as he fell, it was through the taunting, twisted face of Toomes.

Peter kept trying to catch something but the ground came up too fast and he landed squarely on his back again. The small amount of air Peter had managed to get into his lungs was driven back out and he gasped hard in a panic.

Peter's eyes watered as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to make his lungs work.

It felt like a lifetime before he managed to gasp enough air into his lungs to take a half breath. His chest hurt too much. And when he opened his eyes again, he was lying on his back in a mockery of Avengers' Compound. It was still wrong but then Tony stepped up to him. His dad reached down and offered Peter a hand up. Peter gladly accepted because Tony's face held the compassion Peter knew. But once he got his feet under him, Tony's face morphed into a terrifying smirk before he burst apart and a heavy, sandy fist slammed into Peter's chest, right through where Tony had been standing. The attack launched Peter backward and he careened through imaginary Compound walls only to be stopped by the real concrete wall behind him. Peter hit hard enough that the concrete gave a resounding crack and then he crumpled, collapsing forward onto his face.

He struggled to get his hands under him as he again gulped for air.

Then everything dropped away and Peter was left back in the large cell he started in. Peter coughed and sputtered as he pulled his hands in toward his chest. But that motion tore at the puncture wounds on his shoulders and stomach.

His entire body was on fire.

Peter squeezed his eyes shut and tried desperately to push away some of that pain because he couldn't afford to lose focus.

Then Toomes appeared again, smaller and less monstrous than before. He leaned down into Peter's swollen face and smirked, "They think you're dead, Pedro. You better start hoping your speed healing stops or its gonna get really painful because you're not leaving here alive." Toomes watched him struggle for a few more moments before he quipped, "Guess you're not going to be the one to get yourself out after all."

When Toomes didn't get a response, he straightened and headed for the door.

As the door clunked shut behind him, Peter's mind spun and he exhaustedly crushed his eyes shut. His entire body was vibrating in pain as the agony of the old injuries blended with the wounds that were still bleeding. The pain was horrifying and twisted with the mental torment.

And even though Peter knew they weren't true, they wormed their way in when he tried to force the images out. There was part of Peter that was concerned that he had to fight harder than he thought he should to hold onto the truth. Because even if they thought he was dead, Peter _knew_ his family would come for the people who killed him, he would just have to wait.

Wait and hold onto his sanity.

He could survive until they got there.

* * *

**For anyone reading, that's what I have for you right now :)**

**So, if I'm being honest, I'm not totally sure that I'm going to continue this story but I wanted to ask my readers first, is this worth continuing?**

**-Lily**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey everyone,**

**So I'm going to keep going and it's definitely because of you awesome people :) Thank you to those who favorited and followed, I really appreciate it and you gave me a push to keep writing so you're tremendous. **

**A special shout out and thank you to:**

**\- the stellar Jordanden, I'm really glad you liked it and I appreciate you commenting, it's really cool to read :) I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations!**

**\- the outstanding carajiggirl, Thanks :) and I definitely will! **

**\- the extraordinary 627-OrganizedChaos, I don't know if I want to tell you just yet but I guess...keep reading :) And thank you so much for saying that, it's really nice and I appreciate the support. I hope you have an awesome day as well Chaos!**

**\- the stupendous mmaarriaa, Here you go! Hopefully you like this chapter!**

**Okay so I'm going to stop typing now and I hope you...**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Silence fell over the collective Avengers and no one was quite sure how to break it. The screens that had been tracking the perpetrators were still up but held no helpful information which added to the despair in the room.

Finally, Bruce broke the tense quiet, "Do we at least know who they were?"

All eyes guiltily flicked to Tony but seeing that, Natasha and Rhodey raised their voices, which gave Tony a chance to gather himself before he inevitably corrected some of what they knew. They tag-teamed the stories of Mysterio and Vulture but eventually they exhausted their knowledge and the gazes of the Avengers fixed again on Tony.

Tony took a deep breath and elaborated on what the others had said while filling in the little he had learned from Michelle about Doc Ock and what he had noticed about Electro. When he was done he winced and admitted, "MJ might know more than me. I only knew that Pete fought Ock, I didn't realize how much damage the man actually did until she told me on the way in."

Natasha's gaze slid carefully up to his and she tentatively asked, "Is she willing to talk to us?"

Tony raised his eyebrows and nervously queried, "She wants to but is that a good idea? Dragging her even farther into this?"

Clint gently refuted him, "Tony, short of putting on a suit, she's as involved as she can get." Steve, Rhodey, and Bruce silently agreed before Natasha added, "And you need to give her that choice."

Tony grumbled because he knew Natasha was right, they all were and after briefly directing a scowl toward each dissenting member, Tony left to grab her.

Once he was gone, Clint quickly threw out, "Can we start looking for them individually? If Tony and Michelle can give us enough, maybe if we could find one of them and that would lead us to the others?"

"It's worth a shot." Natasha responded thoughtfully. After a brief pause she said, "Clint, Rhodey start pulling up everything you can find on those alias's Tony gave us. We'll start cataloging sightings overseas because at least someone has to be based there, we lost them over the Atlantic…" She started to pull up information on Mysterio and Vulture, cross-checking what data they had while they waited for Tony to come back with Michelle.

* * *

Michelle stared at her hands as she twisted them uncertainly in front of her. Once Tony had left, she had tried sitting but after only a few minutes her nervous energy got the better of her and she started pacing. It helped to drive away the scenarios that keep building, unwarranted, in her mind. She had her back to the door when a familiar voice cut through her confused thoughts.

"MJ?" The sadness and pain were clear in May's voice.

Michelle spun around a little too fast, only just planting her feet before she lost her balance. She glanced up at May's slightly slouched form before she guiltily answered, "May..." Michelle winced at her own voice but she didn't know what else to say. And she couldn't help her own insecurity as she took in May's blotched, tear stained face. _Why wasn't she crying?_

_Shouldn't she be?_

She was going to marry him after all. Didn't that mean something, shouldn't she be more upset?

The longer she contemplated that, the more clearly Michelle realized that she was upset. She was heartbroken. But she was also incredibly incensed and at some point, she had unconsciously decided that pissed was better than sad. Of course, then she realized she had been silent for an awkward period of time and that her anger was not in complete control because her hands were shaking violently.

May seemed to realize her confusion and instead of waiting for the younger woman to reach out to her, she stepped forward and wrapped Michelle in a tight hug. Then May broke down. Michelle returned the hug with equal intensity and while she felt her eyes well with tears, they didn't fall. They couldn't because there was still a chance...

Happy watched the two from the doorway with a sad frown before he put his head down and stepped toward the elevator. He still had one more person to talk to because something told him that Tony hadn't had a moment to tell her and she needed to know.

* * *

Pepper appeared downstairs not ten minutes later, Happy trailing close behind. Her eyes were red but she refused to cry because she knew what she was going to have to be. Or at least she knew what she was going to have to offer. As she stepped into the room, Pepper saw Michelle hugging May tightly while the older woman sobbed into Michelle's shoulder. Pepper stepped close but in an effort to avoid scaring them, she waited to be noticed.

It took everything in her to keep May on her feet. May wasn't a big person but her pain was reflecting the sorrow that Michelle had been trying so hard to bury and being confronted with it made it more difficult to ignore it. After what felt like hours, Michelle opened her eyes and caught Pepper's gaze over May's shoulder.

Without a word Pepper stepped forward and laid her hand on Michelle's arm. When the younger woman frowned at her, Pepper slipped her arm around Michelle's shoulders. It was only then that Michelle felt a few tears betray her. She didn't sob but the more the reality was reinforced, the harder it was for her to hold onto her anger. She tipped her head carefully into Pepper's shoulder and closed her eyes.

That was how Tony found them when he slipped back into the room. He stumbled slightly when he saw the three of them standing off to the side. Tony was loath to interrupt but he needed to keep moving forward or he was going to stall. So taking a deep breath, he took a stuttered step and quietly called, "MJ?"

Michelle's head shot up off Pepper's shoulder and May jerked in Michelle's grip as all three sets of eyes turned immediately toward him. The attention was…uncomfortable...but inescapable. Tony swallowed hard and said, "MJ, are you still okay with helping?"

Michelle nodded exaggeratedly and carefully extricated herself from May's arms, asking, "What do you need from me?"

Tony held his hand out toward door he had just come through and explained, "We need to ask you some questions about the guys who did this."

Michelle surged forward and was on his heels before he even stepped back through the door.

* * *

Michelle was able to fill in some of the gaps and gave the others something more to work from including a few actual names. When she was finished, she stepped up to Natasha's side. They were talking intently before Tony tapped Michelle on the arm and gestured for her to step away. Michelle followed silently and when they were out of earshot Tony murmured, "I promised you could see him, do you still want to?"

Michelle nodded hesitantly before she asked, "Do you think we should right now?"

Tony shrugged before he elaborated, "It's your choice, MJ. You can stay here and we can see him later but I have to go talk to Morgan so I wanted to give you the option."

Michelle looked at the map Natasha was manipulating and then back at Tony, weighing her options. She wasn't going anywhere anytime soon so she could always come back and help. For right now, she realized this needed to take precedence. She met Tony's gaze and agreed, "Let's go now and then I'll help you talk to Morgan. I can help them after."

* * *

Tony stood behind her with his hand on her shoulder but to be honest he wasn't sure if that was more for her or for him. He didn't want to see this but he also didn't feel right letting Michelle do it on her own.

Tony tapped on the glass when Michelle said she was ready and the nurse in the room pulled back on the sheet that was covering the still body. The woman didn't pull the sheet down too far passed Peter's elbows but even from that it was possible to see the damage.

Michelle immediately felt her heart clench but she forced herself to look.

Nearly all his body was bruised, with darker black around his throat, mottled down obviously broken ribs, and across the right side of his face where the cheek bone and eye socket had been shattered.

She could feel tears, real tears, finally threatening but she bit them back, unwilling to break down in front of Tony. Unwilling to break down in front of Peter.

But the longer she looked, the more obvious the injuries became. She noticed sickeningly that his right upper arm had been broken, the pristine white of bone was still visible jutting out from torn flesh. And even having been cleaned, the multiple deep wounds that delved passed the patchy bruises stood out because of the stark red of the now visible muscle.

Tony had been right.

His death had been painful.

Michelle stared for only a few more heartbeats before the tears finally slid down her face. Tony hadn't been lying. He hadn't been protecting Peter. He had just been telling the truth. The weight of that finality settled in her chest and the gentle presence of Tony's hand became a momentous burden.

Unable to control it any longer, Michelle suddenly turned and wrapped her arms around Tony's shoulders, sagging slightly against him as she finally gave in to her overwhelming loss.

In response, Tony wrapped his arms around her smaller frame, holding her up when all he wanted to do was collapse. He flicked his hand, gesturing to the nurse to cover Peter's body and he steered Michelle to a set of chairs against the wall. She followed willingly and all but fell into the proffered chair. Tony sat next to her and gathered her back up tightly.

Only then did he properly cry too.

They clung to each other for a while before eventually Michelle's tears quieted into a sniffle and she sat back away from him. She passed her gaze over his exhausted face before she sputtered, "I was hoping you had been lying."

Tony frowned but choked out, "I'm sorry I wasn't."

Michelle watched him for a moment longer and saw the deep sorrow in his eyes. She felt sorry for him. As she contemplated that, it became increasingly easy to allow her own numbness to build, hiding the pain and sorrow again. She let the numbness take over and gave it the chance to create a shell that was bolstered when she thought of May's tear-streaked face and Pepper's stoic acceptance. Then she thought of one more person and murmured, "We need to tell Morgan. He's going to know that something is up. I'm sure he's noticed already. He too smart not to."

Tony looked up at her and nodded slowly before he gave a cracked whisper, "I know." Then he quietly asked, "Are you sure you want to be there?"

* * *

"Dad, what's going on?" Morgan tried to be brave but he couldn't hide his fear. His eyes darted unceasingly and nervously between the two adults sitting in front of him.

Tony swallowed hard and started to say, "Morgan, something happened to Peter last night..." He coughed a little on the truth and had to press his hand to his mouth as tears sprang back into his eyes.

Morgan let his fear take over as he prompted his dad to continue, "Okay?" He dragged out the word and it was possible to see the wheels turning in his mind as the ten-almost eleven-year old tried to reason out what was happening.

Michelle saw Tony's trouble and she stepped in to help. Or she tried. Her voice cracked too, "He was hurt really bad last night while he was fighting a group of bad guys." Michelle winced when she realized her inability to say what actually happened.

Morgan's eyes widened and he hurriedly asked, "Is he okay? Can I see him?"

Michelle leaned forward and laid her hand on his before she whispered, "No, Mo. He's not okay this time. He's...uhh...he's..." Then it was her turn to choke on her words.

Tony watched Michelle struggling too and he tried to step back in to help her. He put his hand on hers and pressed forward, "He didn't make it, Morgan."

It was possible to see the glimmer of understanding in Morgan's face as his lip quivered and his eyes welled up with tears. He shook his head as he tried to deny what the two adults in front of him were saying. He asked, "Why not?"

Michelle swallowed hard as she bit back tears because there just wasn't an answer to that question. Peter was dead for no real, comprehensible reason.

But Tony had been preparing for that question. It had been what he had been asking himself in the few moments he had to question the stupidity of the universe. He tried to explain, "Morgan, you know that your brother fought bad guys to make sure that everyone else was safe?"

Morgan nodded as tears continued to roll down his cheeks.

Tony continued, "Well, last night there were too many of them and they weren't like Peter. He always tried really hard not to hurt people but the people who caught him didn't share those morals and when they got him, they...uh...they killed him."

Morgan nodded along as Tony spoke and when all the implications of that clicked, he paused for only a moment before he launched into his dad's arms. Tony caught him and wrapped him up tightly, trying to comfort the heaving cries that were now soaking his shirt. Because Morgan was old enough to understand the permanency of death. He was old enough to understand that his brother wasn't coming home.

Tony held him until he cried himself into an exhausted sleep. Unwilling to wake him, Tony awkwardly stood and gathered Morgan more fully into his arms. He looked at Michelle apologetically, "I'm going to put him to bed..." Then he trailed off because he didn't have anything else to tell her.

Michelle watched him, flicking her gaze between the boy asleep on his shoulder and Tony before she threw her thumb over her shoulder and said, "I'll go find the others."

* * *

They worked until Pepper made them stop for the dinner she had ordered.

And while they were eating, someone started telling stories - most of them revolving around Peter. That continued well after the plates were cleaned and put away but no one seemed to want to stop.

That kept them all gathered in the Stark living room as the stories continued unabated for the next few hours.

Michelle enjoyed it at first but at some point she felt her stomach starting to rebel. After Steve told a story about some kind of alien invasion Peter had helped stop, she abruptly excused herself. Michelle wasn't sure what it was but something had made her sick. She bolted into their room and slammed the door shut behind her before skidding into the bathroom. Throwing open the toilet seat, she vomited the little that was in her stomach, it wasn't much but it burned badly and she could feel her tears starting to intermingle with the bile. Peter's body invaded her thoughts and made the sickening mess worse. And not for the first time that night, Michelle questioned, _why had she agreed to look?_

_Duty?_

_Masochism?_

_Hope?_

Ultimately, she didn't know but she knew that if she hadn't seen him she would have never truly believed he was dead.

As those questions assaulted her, she leaned back over the toilet, heaving until her stomach hurt and her eyes burned. Exhausted, she fell back from the bowl and held herself in place with the seat, resting her head on the cool porcelain.

Eventually, FRIDAY's voice broke her out of her wallowing, "Ms. Jones? Morgan is asking to see you, would you like me to send him back to bed?"

Michelle swallowed back what she could and forced herself up on the sink before she coughed, "No…no, just tell him to hold on."

Michelle grabbed her toothbrush and crammed on some toothpaste. She aggressively brushed her teeth before slamming the toothbrush back into the holder and trying to wipe off her face.

After a few minutes, she asked, "What time is it FRI?"

"Well after two in the morning, Ms. Jones."

Michelle started, she had excused herself at something close to ten. She didn't even register sitting at the toilet for that long. She looked at herself carefully in the mirror before calling again, "Tell Mo he can come in."

"MJ?" The little boy whispered not even a second later.

"Yah, Mo, I'm here." Michelle stepped out of the bathroom to see Peter's little brother standing awkwardly in the doorway.

"I can't sleep." He said as way of explanation.

Michelle frowned and dropped her gaze before she gestured at the bed she used to share with Peter and asked, "Do you wanna sleep with me?"

Morgan nodded sheepishly.

Michelle stepped back into the bathroom for a few minutes and when she came out, Morgan had crawled into the bed and had the blanket pulled up around his ears. Michelle couldn't help but smile, even if it didn't quite make her feel better. She stepped around to the other side and climbed in.

Immediately, Morgan latched onto her side and snuggled into her shoulder with a sniffle. When she wrapped her arms around him, he let out a heavy sigh and asked sweetly, "Are you okay, MJ?"

Michelle contemplated that question for a moment before she whispered honestly, "No. I'm not." When he snuggled closer, she's muttered, "And I don't know that I'm going to be for a long time."

Morgan caught what she said, and he abruptly sat up next to her, his intense, searching gaze catching hers before he asked, "Is that going to be true for me too?"

Michelle winced at his concern before she whispered assuredly, "No, Mo."

Morgan scrunched his face at the answer before he asked quizzically, "But why is that true for you?"

Michelle thought for a long moment, trying to figure out exactly how to explain life to a ten year old. Instead, she just settled on the truth, that had always worked better for their relationship anyway. She let out a long breath before she explained, "Peter wouldn't want you to be sad that he's not here anymore. He would want you to take care of your mom and your dad and live a happy life and help people. You already do that and you're only going to get better so you're going to be okay."

Morgan narrowed his eyes then, the way he did when he didn't quite get the answer he wanted or expected, so he repeated, "Peter would have wanted you to be okay too, so why don't you think you will be?"

Michelle sighed heavily, she wasn't even sure why she had told him that. Still she had to try so she whispered, "I loved your brother very much and sometimes when you love somebody a lot and you lose them, it's really hard to focus on the good things and start to move on." Then she murmured, "And sometimes you don't want to move on."

Morgan curled back up into her side and asked, "Even if it's what Peter would want you to do?"

Michelle smiled sadly and quipped, "I was never very good at doing what your brother wanted me to do."

Morgan grabbed her hand and promised, "Well, I don't want you to be sad so you're included in what Peter would want me to do. I'm gonna take care of you and mom and dad."

Michelle smiled at his innocence and hugged him a little tighter before she whispered, "Thank you." The simplicity of that kindness helped a bit and Michelle found herself comfortable enough to finally fall asleep. Or at least, comfortable enough to pass out. Morgan was out in a few minutes and not too long after him, Michelle followed suit.

* * *

"MJ!" Peter screamed before he leapt off the wall, throwing his arms in front of him as he dove toward her only to slam into the ground a second or two later. His wrists and arms crumpled under his weight as multiple bones broke on impact. The way he fell, he managed to protect his head but his cheek skid across the floor. That somehow hurt worse but Peter couldn't do more than groan, even as the pain seared through his mind.

He forced himself to try and get up but the broken bones were agony as he dragged his arms across the cold floor. He barely managed to get onto his knees before he watched Michelle fall passed him. He tried to shuffle forward but only got a foot or so before the floor fell out from under him too.

Peter fell for a few seconds before he hit the ground on his hands and knees. He held himself up for a split second before he collapsed forward once his mind registered the bone jarring impact. He closed his eyes hard and breathed through the pain. He didn't have long, he knew that, and with a force of will he dragged his eyes open.

Michelle was laying in front of him. Her legs a twisted mess and her head turned at an awkward, unnatural angle but it was her eyes that caught his attention. They were open and blank, staring at him with none of the fire he was used to. None of the humor or love or intelligence. Because she was dead.

Tears sprang to Peter's eyes and he started to murmur, "No…MJ please…no."

Lurching forward on his knees, Peter reached out as his pain was numbed by the trauma of the body in front of him. He wanted to touch her, to hug her, to beg for forgiveness but when he finally got close enough, instead of gripping a solid body, he fell forward into sand.

The sand solidified around his arms and squeezed tightly before he was yanked up by the broken appendages. A tortured scream tore out of his throat then. He was confused and unsettled as he tried to figure out where Michelle had gone but the blinding pain in his arms kept demanding his attention. The concrete sand slung him to one side and then back, dropping back into atoms as he was released with enough momentum to be thrown.

Peter slammed through the buildings of New York, smashing through concrete and steel beams before he hit a wall of lockers and dropped hard onto his face.

Peter's gaze was blurred by tears and confusion. He tried to put his thoughts in some kind of order as he laid on the ground under the dented lockers, but his effort was interrupted by Michelle's voice. He sharply snapped his gaze up as she walked toward him, very much alive and with the same confident stride he remembered. But she was talking to Brad about something. Peter's ears were ringing too loudly for even him to make out the words but they were talking and she was laughing and then Brad put his arm around her. They were older than high school and the juxtaposition was equally confusing when Peter tried to figure out exactly what was going on.

When they got close to where he was pathetically lying, the two poofed in a cloud of dust that solidified again into Michelle's body. Peter watched in morbid curiosity as her dead eyes stared directly at him again. Then Mysterio's voice cut over the scene, "You're going to get her killed, you know that, right? She'll die painfully…because of you. Because of your choices. If you let her go, she can be happy with someone else. Happy and alive."

Peter visibly pulled back when he heard that, he was too tired to even begin to refute it.

Toomes appeared out of the shadows and stepped over Michelle's body. He knelt down in front of Peter and snarled, "I'm glad my gumdrop moved away from you. I told them it was all because of the trial that I wanted them to leave, but you were another reason. You create enemies as easily as you stop crimes. That's your problem Pedro, you don't kill. And I knew that eventually someone else would find out who you are. I didn't want my Liz dying because she was taken in by your apparent goodness." He smirked and snarled, "And now you're going to get your girl killed. And you should know _when_ it happens, it'll be your fault."

He turned his head to the side in an exaggeratedly avian way as he studied Peter. When the broken hero just stared at him with tears in his eyes, Toomes continued, "If you loved her, actually loved her, you'd let her go. Give her a chance to live a real life that doesn't revolve around your stupidity."

He stood, clapped his hands with a loud crack, and suddenly grew into a towering behemoth. He looked directly at Peter before he lifted his foot and exaggeratedly brought it down on the facsimile of Michelle.

"No! MJ!" Peter screamed as the sharp, tumbling snap of bone shot through Peter's ringing ears. He collapsed forward then, too spent to even hold himself up on his hip. He closed his eyes tightly and tried to remind himself that it was all a lie but Michelle's dead eyes kept working their way back into his consolations.

Then Peter felt the world around him shift. It was like a wave pulsed and he winced his eyes open to take in the normal concrete walls. He wanted to feel relief but he couldn't erase the horrifying images and Toomes's voice continued to ring through his mind, "If you actually loved her…"

As his gaze absentmindedly flicked around the room, Peter caught slight movement off to his right and Mysterio's familiar green and gold armor moved out of the shadows followed closely by Toomes. Peter couldn't move to defend himself and instead just curled slightly closer to his core in a mockery of protection. Both knelt down and smiled widely, eyeing him like predators.

"Had enough yet, Pete?" Mysterio teased.

Peter forced his eyes to focus through his pounding headache and he managed to choke out, "Why are you doing this?"

Mysterio leaned down into his face and snapped, "I'm doing it because I hate you." He tossed his hand back over his shoulder and twisted it around a few times before he continued, "The rest of them have their own reasons. Toomes though, he borders pretty closely on hate too, just so you're aware."

"Rest of them?"

Mysterio continued in his honeyed way, "Oh don't worry, I'm sure you'll meet them eventually. They're being a little shy right now but once they figure out exactly how annoying you are, they'll want to talk to you too."

Mysterio glanced over his shoulder at Toomes and in some unspoken agreement, they silently stood and stepped out of the room, leaving Peter to his own devices.

Once they were gone, Peter didn't move. He didn't have the strength and, without the use of his arms, he couldn't sit up so he just stayed where he was. Then just to rub salt into the wound, his stomach growled and he realized he hadn't eaten in...well in a while.

Peter couldn't help but send up a silent plea to be saved. To be home. He waited with bated breath but nothing happened. Instead, he shivered violently on the cold floor until he passed out.

* * *

**Hopefully this lived up to your expectations and that you enjoyed this chapter, even though it was ****sad. Let me know what you thought!**

**I hope everyone has a wonderful day/night and stay creative!**

**-Lily**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey everyone,**

**Thank you to those who are still reading. I hope you're still interested enough to keep going. If you are...**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Everyone else dispersed not too long after Michelle begged their pardon and darted out of the room. They had tried to stay together but the heavily weighted stares and obvious discomfort with her departure broke up the group. She had claimed exhaustion before she left and, while they knew that wasn't true, no one had the callousness to challenge her on it.

But Tony couldn't sleep. Or didn't want to sleep. The semantics didn't matter, it all resulted in the same thing. Because if Tony had been ready to be honest, he was terrified of waking up and having to relearn the truth he had just spent the last twenty-seven hours battling to come to some kind of terms with. Ultimately, staying awake probably wasn't his best decision but he had operated for more than seventy-two hours without sleep before, he could do forty-eightish and still function.

He just needed a little more time to come to grips.

So, he told Pepper to go to bed and wandered down to the lab. Because, really, where else could he go.

* * *

That was where Happy found him a few hours later.

His voice was quiet but demanding when he asked, "Tony?"

Tony heard the footsteps and was immediately annoyed at his visitor. Even when he heard the concern in Happy's order, he couldn't help his irritation. But instead of telling him to go away, Tony pressed his shaking hand to his forehead and leaned forward on the console he had been staring at for the better part of a few hours. He scrubbed his hand down his face and rested his head on his open palm before he tiredly replied, "Yah, Happy?"

Happy took the question for an invitation and stepped farther into the lab, stopping next to Tony. He turned his head a little sideways as he tried to meet Tony's downcast gaze and asked, "You doin' okay?"

Tony was too shocked at the question to get angry. Or to say anything. Instead, he scoffed and dropped his hand onto the counter, fixing Happy with an incredulous look.

Happy quickly backtracked, "Okay, bad question, but the sentiment still stands." Then he added urgently, "You can't shut down Tony, you just can't."

All the anger drained away and he was just left with soul-searing agony when he conceded, "I know. Kinda wish I could though."

Happy sat down in the chair next to him without another word.

Tony looked sideways at his forehead of security. Happy was sitting in Peter's seat. Tony ignored the painful twinge of that realization and instead stuck to talking, "You know I thought that when I got him back the first time he would outlive me. Even with what he did. Even after everything he's faced since, I was sure of _that_. I thought that he would be the face of the Avengers or some shit like that." He turned a bit more toward Happy and flippantly said, "It was a good face too…" But Tony sobered quickly at the stupid comment and the past tense. His voice was angry when he asked, "Now I…what…have to do what I was supposed to do eleven years ago only without the chance to save him? I have to...move on?"

Happy frowned at him before he quietly affirmed, "Yah, Tony. That's what you do. You have Morgan and Pepper, the Avengers, you don't have a choice. You do what you can to bring the people who did this to justice and you make sure that from here on out you do everything Peter would want you to do to help everyone you can."

Tears sprang into Tony's eyes when he admitted, "He was the best of us, Hap. How am I supposed to live up to that?"

"You can't." Happy shrugged and looked up at Tony before he swore with sincerity, "Peter was…one of a kind and no one can be him but maybe we can all just be a little better."

The sadness twisted into anger when Tony snarled, "How does that help?"

Happy leaned back a bit from the wounded man in front of him but he still persisted, "It does help, Tony because it's a way to honor him and that's all you can do." Then Happy rocked forward again and snarled, "That and you can kick the shit out of the freaks who did this."

Tony appreciated the anger but that also reminded him that he had no idea how to do that. He sighed and confessed, "I have to find them first."

Happy recognized Tony's concern before he promised, "You will. It might take some time but you'll find them." He watched Tony sadly for a few more minutes before he stood and laid his hand on his best friend's shoulder. He left it there for a moment before he patted once.

Tony didn't watch Happy leave, he just heard the hissing snap as the door closed behind him. With the returned quiet, Tony dropped his head back into his hands.

He was beaten down.

He was tired.

He had fixed this before but there was no way to set it right this time. There was no plan. No chance to snag a time stone.

Nothing.

His world had been irreparably sundered and he didn't know how to come to terms with that.

* * *

Pepper came down the next morning. Peaking inside, she caught sight of Tony slumped over the console in front of him, his head pillowed in his arms. She quietly tapped in her code and slipped inside, stepping up behind him and laying her hand gently on his shoulder. Her voice was calm when she whispered, "Tony, it's time to get up."

Pepper was well aware that he probably hadn't actually slept but the others were meeting and she needed to talk to him about a whole new problem.

Tony jumped a bit under her hand but he murmured, "I'm up, Pep."

She rubbed her palm unconsciously over his shoulder before she asked, "Can you look at me?"

Tony pushed himself stiffly off the table and rubbed his eyes a few times before he complied with her request.

Pepper watched him carefully, understanding the wounded look in his eyes. She threw out her initial impetus and instead observed, "You look tired."

Tony sniffed a few times, watching her silently before he explained, "I am. I'm exhausted and I'm…done. I don't want to do this anymore Pep. I wanna leave. I wanna take you and Morgan to the cabin and leave all this behind. The others can handle it, I'll make sure they're funded and equipped but I...can't do this anymore."

Pepper's stoic gaze locked on his as she turned over the information in her head. She knew the weight that had to be sitting on his heart to make him want to give up so she chewed on her words, rolling through every argument before she realized what he needed and simply agreed, "Okay."

Tony's eyes widened and he dropped his hand down on the table with a thump before he stuttered, "Really? You're okay with leaving?"

Pepper nodded softly before she elaborated, "If that's what you need, yes." She laid her hand on his before she added, "But I think you need to consider that running, because that's what this will be, will only make you feel better for a bit. How long will it be before the nightmares start?"

Tony scrunched his face because the doze she had woken him up from had been at best about thirty minutes and he had just let himself close his eyes, not really sleep. Sometimes he hated how well she knew him.

Pepper could tell from his grimace that she was right, that he had intentionally stayed awake. Her voice softened farther when she said, "You can't go as long without sleep as you used to and if you don't end this…" She trailed off as she let him fill in the consequences.

Tony shook his head and insisted, "I don't know that I can. I don't have anything left to give"

"Don't say that." Pepper added sharply. Then her voice softened again and she explained, "We can run, I'll go with you but do not give up on this because you think you can't do it. That's just not true. You would do anything for your sons, Tony. If you let yourself question your resolve now, that guilt will eventually tear you apart."

Tony listened when she snapped at him and heard her reasonings but then she reminded Tony why the pain was _so_ agonizing and he realized he couldn't run. He had to end this. Decision made, his searching gaze roved over her face before he murmured, "What did you need to talk to me about?"

Pepper furrowed her brow at his question and the conversational leap.

Tony filled in his rational, "You didn't come down here to check on me. If you thought I was asleep, you would have let me sleep unless you had to say something. You came down because you needed to talk to me."

Pepper narrowed her eyes trying to reason out how he could have known that before she declared, "I'm not telling you until you decide if we're staying or going."

Tony took one more moment to consider what she had said. It was a worthless moment but he took it nonetheless. She had said the same thing Happy had told him the night before. Tony nodded a few times before he said, "I'm going to finish this."

Pepper gave him a soft, knowing smile. She let the decision hang in the air before she said, "We…the Avengers…need to issue a statement." Pepper slipped back into her professional tone the longer she continued, "I saw the news this morning, the media outlets got wind that something happened to Peter and we need to get in front of it before someone starts digging into his story." She looked up at him apologetically, "Someone needs to make a statement. I thought it should be you but I understand…"

Tony waved his hand a few times before he said, "I'll do it. Even if no one else knew it, he was mine, so it's my responsibility." When Pepper nodded, Tony thought of something else and added, "We should also put together a memorial service or something for him. We need to commemorate what he did and hell, who knows, maybe we'll draw out one of these bastards."

Pepper frowned but explained, "May and I have been working on that. You can announce it at the press conference."

* * *

"Oh crap." Peter groaned as he dragged his mind out of unconsciousness. Habit drove him to try to bring his hand up to his throbbing head but as soon as he moved his arm, agony shot through him and his eyes snapped open. His gaze darted down to the appendages that were rippling with seething fire and he realized his mistake. His arms were bent in weird ways that were difficult for his muddled mind to comprehend but the reality was enough to give him something to focus on. In a bid to start over the horrible waking process, Peter slammed his eyes shut, squeezing them tight and breathing in controlled puffs until the pain subsided to a dull ache.

Only then did Peter wink his eyes open.

Left.

Right.

And a few moments later, he let out a disappointed sigh when he realized that the pain in his arms and the seeping cold he could feel wasn't his imagination. As he took in the room around him, he muttered, "Great. Just great."

It was dark stone with no furnishings and no easily discernible way out. Peter scrunched his nose and muttered, "Why does no one ever believe in a chair? Or like a blanket?" Involuntarily, he tried to force himself into a sitting position with his shoulder and elbow before he cursed himself and spat, "That was stupid. Why'd I do that?"

He closed his eyes tightly again and quipped breathily, "Guess I'm not moving anytime soon."

Unfortunately, the inability to distract himself was just as painful because it meant that he had to deal with everything that was swirling around in his head both real and imagined. He took a shallow breath before he murmured, "Okay, start with the real..." Peter didn't actually have the energy to lay it all out verbally but he managed to at least catalogue the things he knew. He had been captured and beaten down by all his favorite enemies. He was locked in a cell and had...twice...been subjected to Mysterio's less than welcoming images. However, acknowledging that caused a cascade that triggered some dark, less than true images: Tony's broken armor, Michelle's dead eyes and twisted form, his family thinking he was dead.

He popped his eyes open as he tried to drive out those thoughts. He knew they weren't real but the implication was still enough to cause him to breathe in sharply because he couldn't handle seeing it. He caught himself whispering, "It's all a lie, it's all a lie." It took time but eventually those terrible images subsided and Peter relaxed his mantra.

He took another, desperate, look around his cell for an escape route. He was in trouble because he knew what Mysterio did and still those images caused dangerously visceral reactions. He started talking again, "Calm down. Calm down, Peter. Just keep gotta keep it all straight for now."

The mutters forced him to calm down. Panicking gave them what they wanted and he had to keep his wits because he _knew_ the danger of a lie predicated on fear and he had been on his back foot for too long. He couldn't lose himself. Instead, Peter focused on healing. Closing his eyes, he imagined his family without the added horror of Mysterio's projections.

* * *

The next time the door opened, Peter flinched.

He had been dozing and the sound startled him but still, he hated himself for that reaction. Peter silently reminded himself that nothing he was about to see was real and all of it was specifically meant to screw with him. He prepared for some horrendous image but instead of some illusion or terrible injury, two silhouettes stepped into the room.

As the door shut behind them and they got close enough for Peter to make out who it was, he quipped, "Toomes, your hospitality never ceases to amaze."

The Vulture chuckled before he snapped, "Found your tongue I see." Then he leaned down into Peter's face and sniped, "I liked you better when you were a teenager."

"I've always found that looking forward is necessary to grow as a person."

Toomes sneered and leaned down when he was interrupted by the mechanical clank of metal at the doorway.

Peter took the opportunity, "Hold that thought, I feel like this is someone I need to meet."

Toomes narrowed his eyes but lost his chance when Peter's attention was grabbed by the impressive image of a man with four monstrous arms stomping into the room. His eyes widened when two metal claws darted forward and clamped hard onto his shoulders. Peter coughed through an aborted yell as the metal tines dug into barely healed wounds from the last time he had encountered the cruel arms. Peter was roughly lifted up and settled into a chair that materialized behind him.

Peter curled over his core, unable to really do anything to deal with the pain but quip, "This wasn't here before...I looked..." He choked on some vomit and continued, "Think you could...uh...bring a blanket next time." He winced up at the three men standing in front of him. Some kind of light had brightened and it was easier to see his tormentors. As he took in each, Peter started when he got to Doc Ock because he actually looked familiar. The goggles that had obscured his face every time Peter fought him were gone and he sat heavily back in the chair, whispering, "Doctor Octavius?"

The claws holding him still dug a little farther into Peter's shoulders, causing him to wince as Octavius sneered, "I was wondering how long it would take you to figure it out."

"Why are you here? What happened?" Peter asked in a wounded whimper.

Octavius fixed Peter with an incredulous look before he snapped, "What happened? Don't pretend you forgot the technology you stole. The proprietary robotics I let you work on, only for you to sell it to Stark for a pittance of a job."

Peter sat back like he had been slapped. The doctor had always been a kind, even man for the few years Peter had known him but the vitriol that dripped with that accusation was…not the Otto Octavius Peter had known. He stuttered to defend himself, "I didn't. I didn't steal anything. The Stark product you're talking about isn't the same as your interface. It's similar but the applications are completely different." Then he shook his head and offered imploringly, "I'm not even working on that project."

Octavius's unused arms carried him closer and he leaned into Peter's face, "Don't lie to me, Peter. I was willing to bring you in, to make you a partner, to give you a chance to change the world and you threw it away to work for Stark."

Peter's eyes widened impossibly but before he could say anything else, Mysterio stepped forward and clapped his hands, drawing their attention. His voice was a gleeful drawl, "I hate to break up this wonderfully awkward reunion but we have something to show you." He flicked his hands toward a glass pane that appeared on the wall closest to them and behind that a large screen materialized. Mysterio smiled widely as if that revealed some life-changing information. When Peter didn't react, his expression sobered and he leaned down into Peter's face before he said mockingly, "I know you've been waiting for someone to come and break you out of here but the best part of our little plan is that no one knows you're alive." He snapped upward and slashed his hand across the space between the two of them before he continued with a flourish, "And I know, I know, I'm just lying because that's what I do but this time, your Avengers were kind enough to be the ones to prove that I'm telling the truth."

Peter's heart rate sped up. That had been one of the lies he was sure Mysterio had told him. Still, he couldn't keep some of the fear out of his voice when he demanded, "What are you talking about?"

Mysterio smiled manically as the large screen behind the mirror flicked on and it was suddenly possible to hear the murmur of tens of voices, unfortunately the screen didn't show him much. It was an empty podium in front of a camera. Peter glanced up at the three people around him and tried to figure out exactly why they seemed so pleased. Then Peter's attention was dragged back to the screen when the room exploded into motion. The camera angle was too tight for him to make out why that happened but he had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

In confirmation of Peter's discomfort, Tony stepped in front of the cameras. As soon as he laid down the folder he was holding, people shouted questions indiscriminately but Tony ignored them. Instead, he purposefully shuffled a few papers as Natasha and Steve stepped up behind him and Pepper stood off to the side with Happy.

Even knowing this was a lie, Peter's gaze locked onto Tony like a lifeline. He could tell his dad was incredibly uncomfortable, it was obvious. As he organized what were apparently notes, something he never used, Peter could see the small tremors in Tony's bad hand. When he finally looked up into the camera, his back was ramrod straight and his eyes were flat. Peter couldn't help but feel guilty for his part in that anxiety.

Peter watched with rapt attention to every small move everyone on that stage made and while it took Tony longer than Peter thought it should to be ready to speak, he appreciated being reminded of home.

When the shouted questions finally quieted, Tony flicked his gaze over to Pepper before he took a breath and began. Tony's voice was resigned when he said with even-handed anger, "There have been a lot of conflicting rumors and stories about the status of the hero who called himself Spider-Man." He coughed a couple of times into his hand before he continued, "I'm here on behalf of the Avengers to inform you that two days ago, Spider-Man was killed fighting a group that calls themselves the Sinister Six."

Peter's mind short circuited.

They hadn't been lying?

He had only been there for two days?

Peter immediately squashed those thoughts because this was a trick, a more elaborate trick than what he had seen before but it was still just an illusion.

This was fake.

Then Tony paused as he waited for the expected, surprised chattering to subside a bit before he continued, "For the last thirteen years, Spider-Man fought on behalf of Queens, his beloved neighborhood, and he, time and time again, proved his selfless strength, saving millions in the process. He taught everyone how to be better. His loss will be felt not just in New York but around the world and throughout the universe." Tony put his head down for a brief moment before he finished, "Our thoughts and prayers go out to his family in this trying time." He swallowed hard before he said, "I'll answer a few questions."

Peter was almost taken in by that. That was nearly a perfect recreation of his dad. But...

No.

This was fake.

Right?

On the screen, as Tony finished his statement, hands around the room shot up as calls for the man's attention cascaded throughout the small area.

Tony pointed at a faceless reporter in one of the front rows before the crowd quieted and it was possible for Peter to hear the disembodied voice, "What are the Avengers doing about this group?"

Tony snarled involuntarily before he promised, "We will be continuing to look for them but as it stands right now, they seem to be lying low so it could be some time before they are brought to justice."

Peter saw his hand trembling harder on the podium before he dropped it down and put it in his pocket. No one ever noticed that, was Mysterio that good? It was becoming harder to remind himself this was fake.

Then another reporter's arm went up, "Is there any chance that this could just be a misdirection by this group. There are reports that Mysterio is a member."

Tony swallowed hard before he said, "He is. But no. There's no chance."

Peter heard Mysterio snicker behind him. He leaned forward and whispered into Peter's ear, "Still think this is an illusion?"

But before Peter could answer, there was another digitized voice that called out in quick succession, "What does this mean for the Avengers?"

Tony's head snapped toward the reporter before he offered the same brusque tone, "It means that we're going to keep moving forward while we mourn the loss of one of our own."

"What was his real name?" A particularly brave journalist called from one of the middle rows.

Tony glanced at the Avengers behind him before he sighed and turned to whoever had dared that question. He sounded tired when he said, "We will not be releasing that presently. His family deserves privacy and I'm aware that if I give out that information, you will disturb them."

"Will you ever release that information?" It was the same voice as before.

"Not at this time." Tony answered curtly.

"But what about…"

"No," Tony snapped, cutting off the wider clamoring of the room. Then he growled into the sudden silence, "Do not ask me that question again. I'm telling you I'm not releasing _his_ name."

That was the first time his façade cracked and Peter saw it. His dad was pissed and while he was still trying to keep it together, it was by fraying threads. Peter watched as Natasha took a stealthy step forward and laid her hand on his shoulder. Anyone who wasn't paying attention wouldn't have seen it. But Peter caught it and for as wretched as the substance of Tony's speech made him feel, seeing the pain on their faces was enough to give him some hope that they would still find him.

But at the same time, he realized by settling on that, he acknowledged that this was real. Honestly, it had to be, there was too much detail, too many idiosyncrasies for that to have been faked.

His family thought he was dead.

The room stayed quiet for a solid, painful minute as Tony collected himself. His nostrils flared a few times as he swallowed hard. Only when he was ready, did Tony speak again at a much more even pace, "There will be a public memorial held the day after tomorrow in Queens."

Tony didn't say anything else, just stepped off the stage followed by the others. The television shut off and the window dissolved back into the dark of the room.

Peter was left staring at the darkened wall, refusing to look at the men around him. He was too busy trying to process that. His family thought he was dead but there had been enough anger there that he knew they wouldn't stop until they had captured the people who had killed him. His family would come for him, it would just take time. They needed time. He had to buy that.

He could buy that.

Still, the others were not ready to give him that option. Mysterio leaned down into his face and snarled, "You're not getting out of here, no one's coming for you."

"What do you want? Why are you doing this?" Peter asked, his voice harsh as he tried to figure out a way to manipulate this situation. He kept going, "If you want me to do something, you have to tell me what that is."

Toomes crossed his arms over his chest when he explained, "We don't want anything you can physically give us."

Peter was frustrated and he snapped, "Are you trying to be particularly vague? Because that means nothing."

The three shared a look before they abruptly turned and left.

"Hey!" Peter called at their retreating backs. The only response was the metallic claws releasing his shoulders. As the metallic barbs pulled out of the wounds, blood splattered on the stone floor around him. The door thunked into place and Peter simply curled forward, spent.

* * *

His arms healed slowly but after what he assumed was about two days, Peter had full movement again. Seeing his family had steeled his resolved. He assumed his captors showing him was meant to do the opposite but it didn't so as soon as his arms could hold his weight, Peter rolled onto his hands and pressed himself up. The last time someone had tried to hold him in a room like this, they had given him enough space to get his fingers under the door.

Peter was tired.

He wanted to go home.

But right now he was angry _and _he had his strength back.

He stumbled over to the door and ran his fingers over the metallic surface. He groaned when he realized it was flush with the door frame. He also remembered from the few times he had seen it open that it was probably a little too thick for him to punch through without breaking his hands. Something he was loath to do after his last encounter.

He groaned and started to look around, muttering, "Okay, need a plan B."

Huffing his frustration, he leapt to the ceiling.

The floor was dark but it appeared almost dim at the top of the tall room, like there was a faint light leaking through somewhere. As Peter crawled carefully across the ceiling, he started to realize that the material was different than the rest of the room. It wasn't tile or anything convenient like that, but it wasn't the rough hewn stone of his cell which meant there had to be a seam somewhere.

Hurrying over to the point where the wall met the ceiling, Peter started to feel along the expanse, trying to find something he could use. When the joint seemed solid enough, Peter moved inward, spiraling toward the center of the ceiling. After a decent search, his hand slipped across a loose stone. He had realized a while ago that the ceiling was designed like a drop ceiling but instead of tile panels, these were concrete settled into, if he had to guess, rebar reinforced crossbeams. Almost like someone had removed the original ceiling but still needed to make sure it was impossible for him to get out. Thankfully for Peter, the design offered him some escape potential.

Once Peter realized the design of the ceiling, he started pushing up on the concrete blocks. This design relied on weight and sealing so if he could just find a block…he pushed up hard but nothing gave…that was loose…he put his shoulder under another block but that one didn't give either…maybe he could get out. He rocked back on his heels and brought himself forward, slamming his hands into the block in front of him.

Unlike the others, he was met with a soft sputter of stone and dust that gave proof of concept to his plan.

Rocking back again, Peter wrapped his hands together like a sledgehammer and channeled his anger and hurt into his swing. He couldn't help but yell as the curling motion tore at barely healed injuries. Still his effort was enough to cause the block to jump slightly in its concrete bed.

It wasn't enough to dislodge it but it gave him just a little more hope. Method decided on, Peter planted his feet and swung back a third time. As he rocked forward, he used his hands as a sledgehammer again and slammed them into the stone.

The concrete shook and shifted slightly.

"Come on!" Peter cried out as he huffed hard against the growing pain in his arms and chest. The bones had healed but they were still really tender. He decided to try one more time.

He screamed as he used his body as a battering ram and was rewarded when the block jumped out of its moorings, shifting just a few inches to the left and giving him a space to slip his fingers through before he shoved the block to the side.

He hung upside down for just a few moment, trying to collect himself. Once he felt like he had a handle on his shaking body, he crawled forward stealthily enough to stick his head up through the hole. Peter quickly glanced around the space he could see and when the coast seemed clear, he slipped out of his cell. If his family couldn't get to him, he would just get home on his own.

Decision made, Peter skittered out of the room before he had a chance to hear his dad's voice carry through the darkened air of his cell.

* * *

**Feel free to let me know what you thought in the reviews, hopefully you still like it.**

**I hope you have a wonderful night/day and stay creative!**

**-Lily**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey everyone,**

**I don't have much of an author's note for this one other than to say thank you to the lovely carajiggirl. I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter but I'm also sorry I made you sad!**

**Thank you to everyone reading and I hope you...**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Tony felt trapped.

His foot bounced relentlessly against the car's seat as he fidgeted with the cuff links on his jacket. He should have driven. He had thought about it but had decided against it because he wasn't quite sure what state he would be in after the memorial. Unfortunately or fortunately, he kept going back and forth on that, it just left him with pent up energy that needed direction. But right now, he was stuck in a car that someone else was driving. Tony huffed his frustration, trying hard not to say too much since Morgan was still curled between him and Pepper.

He needed to do something.

In frustration, Tony let his head drop back against the headrest and he let out another exasperated sigh.

Morgan reacted to that physical manifestation. He sat up and tugged on Tony's jacket sleeve, pausing only slightly to give Tony time to pull his head off the headrest. When he had his dad's attention Morgan asked, "Can we get cheeseburgers for dinner?"

Tony looked down sadly at him but smiled, "Sure, bud. If that's what you want."

Morgan nodded a little more animatedly, expanding earnestly on his plan, "I think Peter would have liked that. That's what we always have when it's a bad day." Then he added sadly, "This is a really bad day."

Tony tugged him closer with one arm and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, "You're right, buddy. Sure we can do that." He glanced over Morgan's head at Pepper and smiled sadly, appreciating the simple, comforting kindness. Pepper returned a watery eyed simper and gently laid her hand on Tony's shoulder. The ride lapsed into silence as Tony's tapping foot quieted and the sound of the road blanketed the car.

* * *

Two days after the memorial, the Benatar limped onto the landing platform at the Compound. It looked every inch like a damaged spaceship from a movie. Gouges were torn into the hull, paint was scratched away, and a few points of the ship were smoking even after the protracted reentry. As it shuttered to a landing and the ramp groaned open, Rocket exited backward as he snapped up at the trailing Quill, "You know, we wouldn't've even have had to come if you would just let me fly the ship."

"It's my ship!" Quill shot back, turning his attention to Groot as the interjected "I am Groot" fell somewhere between support for Rocket and an insult to Quill, which only succeeded in stirring the pot.

Gamora pushed passed the three and surveyed the empty landing platform. When the door across the way stayed resolutely closed, she interrupted the bickering with a curt, "Where is everyone?"

Realizing she wasn't going to get an answer, she turned directly to Rocket, "You used the communicator they gave us, right?"

Rocket shrugged and raised his hands at his hips, griping, "I mean…yah I did…"

"Did anyone answer?" Gamora slowly asked, her posture radiating her assumption.

Rocket grimaced slightly before he explained, "Not exactly."

Gamora sighed and turned her full attention toward him, bending at the waist to look him in the eyes as she demanded, "What does 'not exactly' mean?"

Argument with Quill forgotten, Rocket took a few steps forward into her face and snapped, "It means that no one actually responded that they knew we were landing."

Gamora straightened and asked incredulously, "Why did you expect them to be out here then, Rocket? How do we even know anyone is here?"

Rocket threw his arms fully out to the side and shot back, "I don't know! I just assumed they would be. It's like their house, right? Someone should be here."

Then a sharp whistle cut the tension and broke their infuriated focus.

* * *

"They really pick the worst time to show up for everything, don't they?" Rhodey mused as he straightened his suit jacket and pressed the button beside the door. The door shunked open and immediately the fighting was audible. Rhodey rolled his eyes as he glanced over toward Bruce and Clint who both stepped passed him onto the tarmac. Rhodey shrugged to no one and followed with an exaggerated step, his dress shoe clicking heavily once against the asphalt before his pace evened out. He fell to a stop between Bruce and Clint where they were watching the bickering like one would watch a tennis match. After only a few moments of their ignorance, Rhodey crossed his arms and whistled loudly.

Immediately the fighting ceased and all eyes turned. Rocket gave a hurried, "Oh, hey." Then he actually looked at them, turned his head a little to the side, and asked, "What're you all dressed up for?"

Rhodey rolled his eyes but Clint's answer was clipped, "We're a little busy right now, what do you want?"

Quill stepped forward and pressed Rocket behind him with a hand to the face. He stopped before the three with a hand on his belt, "We came looking for Parker. We've got some weird time dilation stuff we think he'd like, where's he at?"

Rhodey shot a disbelieving glance to Clint and Bruce before he looked back at the assembled assholes with a blank stare.

Impatiently, Rocket stepped forward and snapped his fingers toward Rhodey, "Hey! Earth to other iron guy!" Once Rhodey slowly turned his attention back, Rocket threw his hand out to the side, his other falling to rest on his hip before he reasoned, "I mean this really isn't your thing." Then he looked at Clint, "Or your thing." He turned to Bruce and said, "It's almost your thing." As his gaze finally wandered back to Rhodey, he explained, "Listen, don't take this the wrong way but the kid's good at taking direction so he's useful in a fight plus he's better at the science stuff than you are and he's really strong. So if you could just point us in the right direction..."

Before any of them could respond, the door to the tarmac opened and Tony limped out to join them. FRIDAY had relayed the bulk of the conversation and he had no problem ending it with a deadpanned explanation, "Pete can't help you, he's dead."

Everything stopped.

Rocket mouthed "Oh" before he dropped his gaze to his feet.

Gamora glanced back at Nebula and Groot in shock.

Quill froze with his hands at his side.

It was that moment Thor bound down the ramp, a strange metallically armored leg in his hand, "I found it! Tree placed it in the wrong compartment. Have you asked about the Man of Spiders?" As he came to a stop at the base of the ramp, he sobered relatively quickly at the lack of oxygen in the area.

Nebula was the only one to physically react. Ignoring the others, she stepped next to Tony, laid a hand on his arm, and murmured, "I'm very sorry for your loss."

Tony's eyes welled but no tears fell, he was done with that. Instead, he nodded in solemn gratitude before he asked, "Didn't you get our messages?"

She shook her head slowly, "In our last confrontation, our long-range communications were irreparably damaged. That was nearly a week ago your time. We were relatively close to Earth so we came here to fix them."

Tony dropped his eyes for a moment before he looked at her and said with finality, "I can help you with your repairs but I can't do much more than that right now."

Nebula dipped her head in return and replied, "I understand."

As she offered that quiet condolence, Quill stepped forward and said with a nervous cough, "Well, the communications weren't all we were going to ask about, we were kinda hopin' for some help with the thing we were working on before our ship got damaged to hell."

Gamora took a few commanding steps forward and smacked Quill in the chest, snarling at him until he backed up and had the decency to look fully ashamed at his comment.

Tony's gaze shot passed Nebula, his eyes turning hard before he repeated with a scowl, "We don't have time to help you with anything more than your repairs."

Nebula tugged his gaze back with a pointed question, "What are you working on?"

Tony's demeanor softened with her and he answered quietly, "We haven't been able to find the people who killed Peter."

Nebula nodded her understanding. Then she looked back at her own family, weighing her options before she settled on persuasive, "I understand your loss and as much as I hate to inquire, we truly could use your aid. It is about the fate of a planet."

Tony watched her stoically. He sniffed and pursed his lips as he contemplated that for a long moment. He tried to convince himself of anything else but there was no argument: Peter would have gone. Especially after hearing that. Tony sighed heavily and asked, "What's the problem?"

Gamora stepped forward and mimicked Nebula's empathetic tone as she explained, "There is a species of creatures on Aakon that scientists recently created with genetic experimentation. Someone messed up and a few escaped and began to reproduce at a much faster rate than what anyone expected. After only a short time, they became incredibly invasive. It was only when it was too late that they realized when there are more than twenty in a space, they create a time dilation field that grows as they multiple."

Tony held up his hand, the unique, and kind of unbelievable, science of that sparking a curiosity that made him feel guilty. He couldn't meet her eyes when he asked, "I'm sorry, living things are creating a time dilation field?"

"Apparently," Rocket answered sarcastically before he turned his ire toward Quill and snapped, "And thanks to Quill we got stick in it for a few days. Which amounted to a week and a half when we finally got out."

Quill had been quiet to atone for his mistake but he vehemently responded to that, "We would have never been stuck if you hadn't taken control of the ship at the last minute."

Rocket turned away from Tony and snapped, "I told you to give me control of the ship before we even got close! I was reading the dilation in the equipment and _I _was trying to keep you away from the field."

Quill threw his hand up and mocked, "Oh sure you were. If it hadn't been for me, we would have been stuck in it for another month."

Rocket took a threatening step forward as the conversation devolved away from the gravity the Avengers had brought to bear and the small raccoon snapped, "You terrain piece of…"

"Enough!" Gamora ordered as she turned toward the two.

Nebula leaned forward too and snapped, "Neither of you would have seen that field if it hadn't been for the modifications that I made to the system. And both of you were too busy fighting…"

"Again." Gamora intoned.

Nebula nodded sharply in agreement before she finished her rebuke, "To have avoided it even if you had seen it."

Then Gamora added, "If we want their help, we need to stop fighting. _Obviously_, they have something else going on."

Tony opened his mouth to respond but when someone else spoke first, he decided against using the energy.

Rhodey held his hand out from where it had been crossed over his chest and gestured toward Thor, "Why doesn't he just use Storm Breaker? I mean, he was pretty good at taking out quite a few people at a time in Wakanda."

Rocket turned his mockery toward Rhodey, "Well see here's the problem with time dilation fields, they affect everything. Including giant axes. These space rats reproduce faster than we can kill them. We need more fire power."

"Okay…" Rhodey trailed off, tucking his arm back across his chest.

Tony nodded along as he listened, trying to figure out the ulterior motive.

Quill took a slight step in front of Rocket and briefly scowled back at him before he continue, "They're kinda like tribbles, remember those things? Except they're covered in this…" He reached over and snagged the leg out of Thor's hand, holding it up to the gathered group. "Metallic armor that's tough to shoot through, they're actually pretty smart, and the more concentrated they get, the more time slows down and the faster they reproduce."

Tony fidgeted with the hem of his suit jacket for a moment and muttered toward the ground, "That doesn't make sense." Then he scoffed up at Quill, "Also, nothing like tribbles."

Rocket pushed aggressively passed Quill and explained, "The scientists think it's a defense mechanism but no one's actually been able to get close enough to the center to really understand what's going on. My guess is that time is actually going faster inside the cluster and the dilation is a defense mechanism."

Quill mumbled a defense while Rocket explained the situation, "I just meant they reproduce like tribbles."

Rocket either ignored or didn't hear him. Instead he raised his hands slightly at his side when he explained, "That's why we wanted the kid, he always likes puzzles like this." He dropped his hands down after he said it.

"Liked puzzles…" Tony snapped then he swallowed his hurt. That was not helpful, he was trying to be helpful.

Rocket's ears and shoulders dropped a bit more when he heard the pain in Tony's voice and he mumbled, "Sorry."

Tony threw up his hand and asked the pointed question, "Okay, I get what's going on but why do you care and why does all this matter?"

Quill puffed out his chest a bit and explained, "If they keep reproducing, they could swallow the planet and there's an entire population that would be wiped out if that happens."

After a few moments of quiet, Gamora smacked her hand back into Quill's chest and snarled at him again.

He pressed a hand to his chest in mock hurt before he almost sheepishly added, "Okay…okay…and they might have given us half of what they owe us for solving the problem."

The shift was obvious. Tony leaned aggressively forward and snarled with an icy chill, "So, you want our help so you can get paid?"

Thor chimed in guiltily, "Well technically, we already got paid."

Tony's hand started to tremble, forcing him to shove the annoying appendage back into his pocket as he snapped with aloof anger, "I don't give a shit either way. And I can't help, I've got too much to do here to worry about making you money. I will give you a free suggestion though, get the people off the planet and leave it to these weird not-tribble tribble things."

Quill leaned forward with a slight plea, "Look, they don't want to leave alright. I get that, they want to stay on their planet and they asked us to help them." He kept pressing and implored, "It's what we do."

"Yah it's what you do," Tony answered with a humorless smirk. Then his icy tone was back, "What you do is fly around looking for the best way to take advantage of people. You wanted him because he was good at following directions." He sneered wickedly when it became obvious what he knew and he hissed, "Screw you."

Nebula dropped her head when she heard that, unaware he had heard what Rocket had said, even in jest. She glanced over slightly to the others, seeing the thunderous expression on Tony's face and the sadness on the others. This was not going to be easy. Carefully, she lifted her gaze and said, "Tony, I am sorry for the stupidity of the man who calls himself the captain of this ship and the arrogance of the ones who think they're leaders but you shouldn't let them allow a world of millions of others to be lost."

Tony pressed a deep breath out through his nose. He knew what he had to do, he just didn't want to. It took a little more internal fighting before Tony stared hard at her and ground out, "Fine." Then he squared his shoulders and turned his fiery gaze back to Rocket and Quill, "What do you need me for? I'm at best out of practice…" Then he bit, "And I'm not nearly as good at following directions as Peter was."

Rocket shrugged his shoulders up toward his ears at the pointed anger and kept his eyes on the ground as he answered with a deferential tone, "I could use someone else who would be able to pick up on the replication stuff _and_ get the science of the situation. Honestly, if you helped, it would mean we could fix the problem faster and given what's happenin', speed is important."

Tony's nose flared in annoyance before he snapped, "When you say faster, what exactly are you thinking?"

Rocket looked back at Quill and shrugged. He turned back to Tony and guessed, "Maybe a few days. A week, tops."

Nebula still stood near him and quietly said, "We could use your help." Then she looked at the three still flanking him, each had their shoulders pinned back, their sharp eyes watching the exchange, "We could use all of your help."

Tony looked sideways at her then and murmured, "I can't be gone much longer than a week."

Nebula dipped her head and said, "I understand."

Without meaning to, Tony found himself nodding before he even realized he was agreeing. He said after a few moments, "Fine, I'll come with you. Who else do you think you could use? I can't fight on my own anymore, not as well as I used to." Then he tried to find some of his old nonchalance and quipped, "And we're not calling them tribbles anymore, you need a new name."

Quill opened his mouth to protest and then seemed to think better of it when he shrugged and conceded the point, "I mean, anyone who wants to fight is welcome."

It didn't take them long to figure it out. Natasha, Clint, and Bucky offered to stay behind and help Michelle sift through anything they could find on the people who did this while the others went deal with this not-tribble mess once the Benatar was repaired.

* * *

Later that night, Tony was laying next to Pepper, trying to fall asleep when he could help but regret his decision. He rolled over and carefully asked, "Do you really think this is the best use of my time?"

Pepper sat up a bit against the headboard contemplated him for a moment, "Are you asking me if I want you to go to space?" Pepper gave him a skeptical stare before she added, "Because I think you know the answer to that." When Tony started to shake his head, she preempted his response, "Or do you mean, do I think you should be helping a planet in distress? If it's the latter, then I think you already know my answer."

Tony flopped onto his back, dropped his hand onto his head, and mumbled, "Yah I was afraid of that." Then he looked up at her through his fingers, "But is this really the _best_ use of my time?"

Pepper sighed and gently offered, "There are plenty of people staying behind who are much better at tracking people down and doing the kind of research that is going to be necessary to find who you're worried about. You don't need to be here stressing them out. Go help this planet, be safe, and when you come back, you can be on the team that ends this."

* * *

As he got closer to what he hoped was an exterior wall, Peter could feel the dropping temperature and the heavy stone construction seemed to be amplifying that. It was hell on his fingers but he kept going. It was apparent from when he had started exploring that the building was old, but he didn't realize exactly how old until he found out why the stone was so cold. It was snowing outside. Peter took a deep breath and pulled himself out of the window, avoiding the snow below, he looked up at the stone crenelations along the top of the structure. He realized this looked more like an old castle or fortress, not quite what he had assumed bad guys would be using for a hideout. At least he could finally say he found the bad guys' lair.

Then he looked out at the landscape.

It was barren around the castle with a forest starting about a mile out. Peter grumbled, "Seriously? Middle of no where?" He hung his head for a moment before he forced himself on, crawling around the side of the building. He was not about to walk anywhere in the snow, especially given his current attire but he still needed transport so he planned to go as far as he could and hope he saw a driveway before the cold forced him back inside. At least it seemed like there was no one guarding the sides of the wall.

Peter pushed until his fingers and toes were numb and his arms were burning with the clinging cold. He needed to get back inside. He was looking for a new entry point when his spider sense screamed at him and he looked up in time to see a dagger flying in his direction, he dodged it but not even a split second later, a second one slammed into his thigh. On instinct he leapt forward but when he hit the wall again, it was with all four limbs. His leg throbbed but he forced himself to keep going, ignoring the blood trail he was leaving in the snow below. Even in the cold air, he could feel himself starting to sweat and he knew he needed to find cover soon because his leg was on fire. He paused for just a moment, long enough to tuck his leg closer and keep climbing with only three limbs.

Finally, he came across a deep, window frame housing a boarded up window and he ducked inside. Taking a few deep breaths and letting the cold steel his nerve, he yanked hard, hissing as the blade pulled free. He reflexively released the dagger, dropping it the length of the wall and missing exactly where it disappeared into the snow. Breathing heavily against the pain, Peter pressed his hand to the wound and tried to staunch the flow of blood in some way that would keep him from bleeding out. It was a deep wound and even for him, it would take a while to heal. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the stone frame, shivering as he considered his next move.

Peter took just a few minutes to catch his breath. He knew he would need it if he needed to get away from that person again. But just as he was about to start moving, his spider sense screamed at him. He leaned carefully out of his alcove, looking for the threat but he reacted too late to the wood exploding at his left shoulder. The lion mane clad man burst through the boarded up window and wrapped his huge arms around Peter's waist. The man's momentum carried both of them off the side of the castle.

Peter instinctually pressed for webbing only remembering a split second later why he didn't have it and instead he looked in horror at the quickly shrinking wall.

He needed to do something. He tried to turn them in the air, maybe if he could get this guy under him, he would still have a chance. But the ground came up too fast and they landed side by side. The jarring impact knocked the wind out of Peter and as he tried to get up, his stomach rolled at the blood already staining the white snow beneath him. He pushed himself just a little harder.

Peter got his feet under him and brought his fists up. It was still just one person. He could still get out of this. He couldn't help the sweat that beaded on his brow when he saw the man he was facing though. This lion man was huge. Tall and thick. What Peter had thought was a long mane of red hair down his back was actually the mane of a lion. The man's hair was black and he was bare chested under the lion's pelt while his pants were a distinct leopard pattern. His accent held a slight tinge of something Peter recognized when he asked, "Where do you think you're going, little Spider?"

Peter stayed on the defensive, he didn't know enough about this person to engage, so he started talking instead, "I was thinking of getting out of here. Maybe getting something to eat." He shrugged with a shoulder before he continued, "I didn't think it would be snowing, that's for sure." When the man didn't respond, Peter pressed just a little more, "So…uh…what's your name? I don't think I've seen you before."

The man's voice was deep when he responded, "They call me Kraven."

_Was it a Russian accent?_ Peter questioned before he turned his head to the side at the strange name, "Kraven…huh? How come I've never heard of you."

"I don't normally talk to my quarry." His expression was flat, intimidatingly flat.

"Oh…" Peter said before he leaned back a bit more into his stance. He was going to have to fight his way out of his and he was going to need all the advantages he could get.

Kraven watched Peter like a hawk, his sharp grey eyes tracking every movement the wounded spider made before Peter rocked back on his heels a little too much given the wound on his leg. Taking advantage of the mistake, Kraven lunged.

Peter's senses were honed enough that he saw the attack coming and managed to step back away from the swinging fist. The problem was the snow. His foot slipped a little farther into the drift than he thought it would and the jarring motion was enough to set his leg ablaze and Kraven caught him with a glancing blow.

Peter was still dexterous and he recovered relatively quickly, landing a blow against Kraven even as he stumbled. The big man rolled his shoulders, the lion's head turning toward Peter in a terrible promise before Kraven agressively engaged again.

* * *

Peter held his own for a bit but eventually his exhaustion and hunger got the better of him. He missed a few blocks and the large fists landed hard on still healing bones and bruises. Then he tripped over a large block of stone that looked like it had initially been part of the battlements. Peter toppled over the mostly snow covered stone and fell hard onto his back, hitting a few more stones.

Kraven roared in victory before he swung his hands over his head like a sledgehammer and he yelled as his brought his closed fists down into Peter's chest. Bone cracked under his hands as Peter's ribs gave under the force of the blow.

Peter tried to scream but all that came out was a deep groan that only lasted for a moment before his consciousness fled.

* * *

When he woke up again, he was still in the snow only now he was shivering. As he winked his eyes open he saw Kraven hovering over him. His Russian lilt was clear now when he mocked, "You were not that hard to catch."

"'M sorry to disappoint..." Peter mumbled as he clenched his teeth hard to avoid shivering in a way that would hurt worse than he already did.

Kraven scowled at him for a moment before he stood abruptly and grabbed Peter by the collar of the sweater.

He dragged him through the corridors back to the cell they had been keeping him in. Peter tried to pay attention to the winding route but he couldn't think passed the cold that had settled in his bones. Instead, he let his head fall forward on his chest and tried to avoid thinking about the painful procession.

When they finally made it to the modified room, Kraven deposited Peter on the floor. The man didn't say anything, just pulled the heavy door shut. Once he was gone, Peter laid on his side and shivered for a time until he managed to lift his eyes to see if anything in his surroundings had changed. He was unconsciously hoping for food but he didn't see anything obvious. Instead, not to far from him, he saw a bundle that kind of resembled a blanket.

Desperation drove his actions and Peter dragged his freezing body over to the blanket and was pleased to find a change of clothes as well. He carefully stripped before he clumsily tugged on the new clothes. His fingers were stiff and every brush of fabric sent shooting, icy claws up his spine. His teeth chattered hard and he had trouble getting his body to respond. Still, by some miracle he managed to get dressed and only then did he curl the best he could into the large blanket. He tucked his hands close to his chest and pulled his legs up the best he could, trying to find some warmth.

As he shivered in his wool cocoon, he murmured, "Come on, dad. Please hurry." Peter hated the weakness but still couldn't help it.

As he slowly dried, the slight returning warmth did nothing for the chill sitting in his chest.

* * *

**Feel free to let me know what you thought.**

**I hope everyone has a wonderful night/day and stay creative!**

**-Lily**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey everyone,**

**Thanks to those who favorited and followed, it means a lot. **

**And thank you to the amazingly awesome carajiggirl! You are so wonderful to always comment and its so nice to read so please know that I really appreciate it. I hope you like this chapter! **

**That's all I have for now, I hope you...**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Peter jolted as a loud noise cut through his unconsciousness. He hissed at the jarring pain and squeezed his eyes shut as he breathed through it. A small part of him that had been hinting in half breaths finally braved a whispered, _You're going to die here_. Peter ignored it the best he could but he wasn't naïve enough to assume he didn't need help.

It tried again a little louder, _You're going to die here._

Peter pushed it away, unwilling to give up on his family that quickly. They would be here, they just needed more time. He reminded himself that he just had to keep going, that he could keep going. He forced his eyes open and shifted his head just enough to look at the only possible source for the sound that had woken him.

Once his eyesight readjusted, he noticed the heaping tray just inside the door.

His eyes went wide and his stomach rumbled in demand. Forgetting his painful existence, Peter scrambled up and stumbled toward the door, only slowing when he nearly toppled over his, still bleeding, leg. He collapsed next to the pile of food and without thought he stuck his hands into it, not caring enough to test it in small portions and unwilling to imagine all the terrible things they could have done to it.

Peter ate so quickly he nearly made himself sick. But at least it seemed like they weren't going to starve him to death, which was a definite positive although it did leave him to contemplate exactly what they were going to do with him. This was a lot of work without some kind of plan.

He stopped himself from licking the plate clean even as the sour feeling of vomit burned the back of his tongue. _Too fast_, he admonished, _way too fast_. He swallowed hard and managed to force the bulk of it back down, maintaining all of the calories he had just shoved down his throat.

Then he sat and waited, sure that something was going to happen now that he had accepted their food. But when he didn't slump over unconscious or dead Peter slowly started to trust that maybe this had just been food. And short of the stomach ache that having some food but not enough food to satisfy him caused, he was okay.

As he sat still, he started to contemplate his surroundings. He was in the same room as before but it looked like they had fixed the ceiling. He wanted nothing more than to escape but now that he had a little food in his system and a clearer mind, he realized he needed to heal quite a bit before he could try that again. Sitting still gave the cool, damp air a chance to seep through his clothing and he started to shiver.

Peter wanted to walk back to his nest but was too cognizant to risk tearing the little healing his leg had managed so he swallowed his pride and crawled. Curling back up in the blanket they had left him, Peter pillowed his head in this arm and tried to still the shudders before they got too bad. If they were going to leave him alone, he might as well try to get some sleep before they came back. It wasn't hard, once the excitement of the food passed, all he was left with was exhaustion.

It was nice to just fall asleep though.

* * *

Unfortunately, that was the only break they seemed willing to give him.

The next time Peter woke up, he was sweating. Throwing off the suddenly constricting blanket, Peter was almost tempted to take off the sweater too. He didn't because that would have been stupid but he did roll up the sleeves. As he tried to figure out exactly why he was so hot, his now muddled brain couldn't quite comprehend it.

That meant he was still sluggishly trying to understand what was going on when the door opened a short time later. Peter turned his delirious gaze, hoping it was food, but knowing in his gut it would just be pain.

It was the latter.

From that moment, his world became a terrible, confusing conflagration of illusions and pain fueled only partially by his increasingly warm fever. It didn't help he also couldn't keep track of the days. Still he was trained to learn as much as he could so in the few moments of quiet he got, he repeatedly catalogued the same information in an effort to keep something in his head.

There were six of them. At least, he was pretty sure it was six. When Mysterio showed up, he sometimes shifted from person to person but usually his ego forced him to reveal himself at least once during his sessions. He was pissed Peter had ruined his plan to elevate himself to an Avengers level hero by outing him as the fraud he was. Unfortunately for Peter, being a fraud didn't make him any less dangerous, if anything it made him more overtly angry. Mysterio was the one whose 'lessons' stuck with him the longest because the images haunted his nightmares, even those he was cursed with when he was unconscious.

By far the angriest was Vulture. He taunted Peter and seemed intent on laying small seeds of contemplation that gestated and bloomed long after he had relinquished his control to one of the others. Those hurt because they tended to directly contradict the things that Mysterio conjured for him. But for as much as Toomes talked, it was rarely about his motivation, the only thing Peter was able to latch onto was that it had something to do with Liz.

Doctor Octavius was vicious but he was weirder than the others. He would put Peter through the ringer and then once he was beaten to hell and exhausted, he would prick his arm and take a vial or two of blood. Peter wanted to resist but most times it felt more like a waking nightmare or an illusion that just really didn't make sense. So instead, Peter would watch, glassy eyed, as he took what he wanted.

Every once and a while, they would bring him food but it wasn't regularly and sometimes it was hard to tell if he was actually eating or if it was an illusion because he never actually felt full.

The others were less nuanced in their approach.

The one he had heard about before all this, Electro, he talked a lot. Kind of like Vulture but with less personal animosity, almost like it was a job requirement as opposed to a personal vendetta. One of the things Peter was able to pick out was that Octavius had promised Electro that if he helped them, that he would be able to reverse the electrical power that made him what he was. Peter wasn't quite sure how that was possible but he wasn't able to give it much thought once the voltage started.

That always hurt.

The worst was Sandman because there was no warning, no rhythm or reason for his attacks. He didn't have to open the door and so Peter had no warning before he attacked and that left him even more paranoid. There was no way to steel his resolve or harden his armor before that man entered. It was agonizing to know that he could be hurt so badly because someone else was willing to pay for it.

Kraven was the only one Peter hadn't seen again, at least not alone.

Because when they weren't working out their individual frustrations, they would show up in pairs or groups. The variation made it nearly impossible for Peter to keep it all straight because it became so random and so jumbled.

As the treatment went on, it became less about what they wanted and more about how he could escape. But even that only lasted for as long as he could keep those coherent thoughts straight, a task that became increasingly difficult as the situation took its terrible toll. Eventually, his thoughts couldn't deepen beyond extreme abandonment and desperation. In those moments, the darkest moments, he tried to imagine home. He tried to keep a picture of Michelle, May, Tony, Morgan, Natasha, Steve, anyone in his mind. But even that became harder and harder because Mysterio would just show him their death and then that started to invade even still images, so what started as an escape, ended in further torment.

Thankfully, Peter was smart enough to recognize the erosion of everything he held dear, everything that made him, him. So instead of losing himself, he fought in the only way he could. He was too broken to escape physically but mentally he still had a chance. It was in a rare moment of lucidity that he managed to do it. He couldn't think of his fiancé, his dad, his brother, his aunt anymore. They had to be Michelle, Tony, Morgan, and May. Anything else and it was too personal. He resigned himself to those new names and he shoved everything he knew, every meaningful connection, every good memory, every precious thing into a mental box. And then he locked it and hid it away. He had to detach, to disassociate, or he was going to die well before his body did.

It was a gamble that left his days to blend somehow closer into each other and his world became a desperate fight to just remember himself with the little memory he had allowed.

* * *

At one point, Peter was on the floor, curled tightly around his shattered chest while his mostly broken leg lay useless on the cold ground. His eyes were tightly closed as he waited for whatever torment they were going to exact on him next. He didn't even have the strength to appreciate the slight break.

As he lay there, mind mostly blank, the door suddenly exploded. Peter instinctually scrambled away from the sound, freezing in something close to his normal crouched position. He backed into a corner and thought about leaping to the ceiling but he wasn't sure his leg could handle the landing. Instead, he cowered.

The dust settled not too long after the door had blown open and Peter had to blink a few times to clear what he assumed was dust out of his eyes because just beyond the doorframe, it looked like Tony's Iron Man armor. Peter rubbed his eyes as the familiar sound of moving joints was audible with every step.

Peter knew he needed to be careful but at the same time, it was impossible for him to squash the hope that was welling unchecked in his chest.

Tony stopped in front of him, mask melting back as he looked down at the cowering spider. He knelt down warily and said, "Peter?"

Peter blinked up at him a few times, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. He had watched the press conference. Would his dad have done that to throw off some kind of suspicion while they were looking for him?

Tony shuffled a little closer and tipped his head slightly to the side as he took in the wounded hero, then he asked with a soft smile, "Do you wanna get out of here?"

Peter was too dumbfounded to reply and instead of saying anything, he nodded emphatically and tried to stand only to stumble forward over the wreck of his leg. Tony had stood smoothly with him but when Peter reached out for Tony's support, the comforting arms weren't there and Peter lurched hard to the left before he managed to catch his hand on the wall and hold himself upright. Only then did Tony reach out but his hands hovered in readiness while Peter got his feet under him.

Peter shuffled carefully forward and held his hands up slightly at his waist. He wanted a hug. But Tony just swept his hand wide, his helmet re-materializing as he murmured, "Let me sweep the hallway, the others are still dealing with them so I don't want to be surprised." Then without another word, he turned away.

There was a pang of…rejection…sadness in Peter's chest and he couldn't figure out why Tony wouldn't hug him, wouldn't touch him. Maybe there had been something to what Toomes had been saying about Tony using him. Peter involuntarily shook his head because even with everything he had shoved away, a vocal part of him knew Tony would never do that. He just wouldn't. He was probably just worried about getting them out and that was taking his full attention.

Sighing as heavily as he could, Peter trailed behind Tony. His spider sense was triggering but that had been happening constantly for a while now and he didn't have any real reason to listen to it. This was Tony.

But no matter how thoroughly he tried to convince himself that was true, something just was not sitting right. Still, he was getting out, that's what mattered. As long as he was free, he could figure out the rest.

Peter watched as Tony stepped a foot just over the threshold. Peter was right behind him but Tony suddenly stopped and Peter ran into him. He moved to steady himself with his hands on Tony's back but as soon as his hands hit what should have been metal, it had the feeling of cloth. It took a moment for that reality to work it way through Peter's muddled brain. And unfortunately, whoever was pretending to be Tony figured it out before he did.

Tony rounded on Peter, a wicked, exaggerated smile growing on his face.

Peter unconsciously took a heavy step back, stumbling on his mostly, broken leg before he muttered fearfully, "This isn't real."

"Sure it is, Pete." Tony's voice morphed half way through the short sentence into some infinitely more sinister. And then Peter was struck by a burst of electricity that shot out of Tony's hands. It drove him off his feet and tossed him back into the room where he landed heavily on his side.

Peter twitched painfully as the last of the electricity escaped his fingertips. He felt his heart jump unevenly in his chest as he desperately tried to hold onto his consciousness. He groaned as he rolled back toward the door only to come face to face with Mysterio's shoes. Peter forced his eyes up the man's legs in agonizing slowness before he saw Mysterio grinning down at him. Then he crouched in front of Peter and shrugged noncommittally before he said, "Yah, so it's not totally real."

As he dropped whatever illusion had been in the room, Peter watched as the other five materialized behind Mysterio. He tried to back up, to get away but when his back hit stone, he realized just how screwed he was. He was going to die here.

They just beat him senseless that night. They didn't even bother with the illusions, it wasn't anywhere close to a fight.

As they were leaving with blood spattered clothes, Toomes knelt down in his face. He looked him over with an empathetic pity before he droned, "Yah know, I tried to warn you that Stark wanted to use you for his own ends. You honestly thought he was going to come rescue you? You're a liability at best now, you saw the press conference, he's written you off. He's not coming for you." He cocked his head to the side and added, "You're mentor isn't coming for you and you're not going to see that pretty fiancé of yours again. The one thing I can't understand is why you don't just give up." He stood, turned on his heel, and headed out of the room.

Once the door shut solidly into place, Peter realized how jarring that situation had actually been. He had been free. He had been out. He had seen his dad. But it hadn't been him. That wasn't his dad, that was a horrifying amalgamation created by a man who hated the both of them. And that night when Peter curled into his blanket, he couldn't help but sob for everything he had lost and the inescapable question that had been building in the recesses of his exhausted mind finally surfaced, why hadn't Tony come to find his killers? Why hadn't any of his family tried to avenge him?

* * *

Tony was a bundle of nerves. He had instinctually taken the seat behind Quill's chair, missing the confused look Mantis sent his way before she took up another seat behind him. And when the ship lifted off, it was hard not to think about the last time he had been on this ship. Peter had just died then too. Tony knew the rolling, sick feeling in his stomach wasn't the ship accelerating. The whole thing just added to the foul mood he had woken up in.

As the ship broke the atmosphere, Tony looked over at Rocket and tried to start a conversation, "So what exactly is the plan with these things?"

But it was Quill who answered, "Kill as many of them as we can and contain the threat."

Tony turned up his nose a bit at the simplistic answer and he couldn't resist a scoffed, "Oh good, so a solidly laid out tactical plan?"

Multiple eyes turned toward him, the sarcastic bite was impossible to miss. Rocket interjected there, "I'm sorry, do you have a better idea?" The raccoon turned in his chair, throwing his hand up as he gestured toward Tony. Steve leaned over from where he was sitting and gave his traditional, quiet, warning, "Tony..."

Tony ignored him and instead looked at the chair caddy corner to him before he snapped incredulously, "No. I don't. You dragged me away from what I was doing because _you_ said you needed my help. I didn't know I was going to have to come up with the plan too."

Quill's captain's voice broke the tension as he commandingly stepped in, "You don't, I'll deal with that once we see what we're dealing with." Then Quill turned in his chair and met Tony's eyes before he offered with a note of sympathy, "Look I get it, okay? I get your pissed, I get this is inconvenient but you agreed and we don't have enough information to make a call right now so we have to wait until we get to the planet."

Gamora's surprise was clear when she gave a quiet cough to cover what was meant to be an obviously mediating statement.

Tony was taken aback by the maturity of Quill's incisive comment and he couldn't help but flick his gaze to where Nebula was sitting in a chair a few steps down. She met Tony's gaze with slightly widened eyes of her own. Tony couldn't cover his surprise when he breathed out, "Okay..."

Quill nodded and then flicked his gaze up to the rest of the Avengers, "We're going to jump so be ready." There was a distinct power flux and the feeling of weightlessness hit them as the ship lurched forward to wherever they were going.

Tony had the fleeting feeling that if this had been any other time, he would have enjoyed the experience.

* * *

The travel time took less than a heartbeat and they materialized over a planet that looked very much like Earth from orbit but the atmosphere in the ship had shifted considerably as the Guardians tensed. Quill carefully maneuvered them closer to the planet and then Rocket's exacting voice cut across the tension, "Now's when you give me control, Quill."

But the man was looking intently at the screens in front of him before he muttered, "I got it, I remember where the field was."

"It had to have expanded by now." Rocket shot back, a note of obvious concern in his voice.

Before it could devolve any farther, Tony raised his voice, "Doesn't matter who thinks they're right, Nebula configured your equipment so it's right, fucking look at it." He bit his tongue in frustration, he should be handling this better. Tony felt Rhodey's hand on his shoulder and he dropped his head in a slight nod as he acknowledged the comfort and the slight admonition.

Quill and Rocket shot Tony a look but didn't respond, instead they shared a warring glare before Rocket begrudgingly lifted his hands off the steering gimbal and Quill took full control.

They flew just above the dilation field, surveying the extent of the cluster. The metallic creatures were milling over vast acres of space. They became almost a reflective mirror as the sun glinted off their armor, their number hiding the blue-green grass that obviously stretched under where they were gathered. They had been multiplying. Quill quietly said, "Dropping decoys." He pressed a button and tipped the Benatar's nose down, giving them a chance to watch the metallic scraps and flares hit the field. Almost immediately both slowed to a crawl. It was weird to see something that was falling suddenly shudder and slow like it had hit a wall of invisible water.

Then Rocket looked back at everyone who was leaning forward to see more clearly, "That's what we're dealing with. Anything with mass slows down too quickly to be effective."

Tony thought about the power his suit could put out, "Are you sure any of us are going to be able to do anything against these guys?"

"I have no idea but we have to try." Quill offered distractedly.

Demonstration finished, Quill and Rocket set the ship down a few miles outside of the invisible dome, unwilling to get caught in it while they planned and slept. It took a few days and more than a few arguments but eventually, they had the workings of a plan that revolved around incendiaries and diversions. The downside was that it involved being in the field for at least a bit of time and they had no way of knowing how long that would actually be.

* * *

Michelle rolled over, her hand finding a cold, empty place on the mattress next to her. It took her a second to remember why Peter wasn't there and once that moment passed, it left her wishing she could forget all of it. Still, she only let herself wallow for a few minutes, she had a job to do and that was always better than remembering. She slipped out of bed and pulled on some warm clothes.

Then she started to collect what she would need.

As she shuffled the papers spread across bed into a recognizable stack, she let her mind wander. It rotated through a few hypotheses she had for the location of their quarry. None of which were quite solid enough to be a lead, but at least it was a start. Then her masochistic mind shifted to their shrinking team and the careful level of apathy she had been building started to crumble because if she was being honest, she felt betrayed and a little abandoned, especially by Tony. They had a funeral for him – for Peter, not Spider-Man - and the same day, Tony had told her he was going to leave to help the Guardians. That had been a few days ago. They still weren't back. She bit her tongue as she tried to hold back her unwarranted anger.

Unfortunately, it didn't totally work.

Michelle smashed the papers into some conceivable order. She couldn't be mad. She wasn't allowed to be mad. Not at Tony or the Guardians or the others who had gone with him because they were doing their job and just because her world stopped didn't mean the real world had.

God, she hated how melodramatic she was being. Peter had known what he had been risking every time he fought. There was always a chance he wouldn't come back. She knew what he was risking every patrol he went on. It was something she had dealt with when they had gotten serious.

At least she thought she had but given her mental state the last few days, apparently, that wasn't the case.

She was supposed to be strong, not some weeping thing that couldn't handle the problem at hand. But that facade stopped working, she promised herself she would deal with his death after she had exacted her revenge. Of course when that inevitably didn't work, she reminded herself that she had been alone most of her life, had wrapped herself in it and made it a part of her armor. However, that just led to the question, why was she having such a hard time with it now?

Michelle shook her head at the introspection. She had a job to do and it wasn't going to get done if she gave in to her self-pity. Peter was dead. She had to accept that and since she couldn't bring herself to fully mourn or even think about moving forward, she needed to pour her angst and energy into finding his killers. If nothing else, the satisfaction of knowing they would face the Avengers was...comforting.

Rolling her shoulders, Michelle headed toward where she and the others had been working. It didn't matter that it was only five in the morning, they would be in soon enough.

As she stepped in the darkened room, the lights brightened over the abnormally archaic board they had set up on the far wall. It was odd in such an advanced complex to think about the paper alternative but, especially for Natasha and Michelle, it was necessary to use a tangible object. Michelle dropped her collected stack somewhat neatly on the table in front of their board and stared at it, taking in the new additions and information from the day before. Her eyes scanned the pictures carefully as she memorized every face and every name.

Mysterio.

Quinten Beck, former employee of Stark Industries and really pissed off inventor who had a much higher opinion of himself than his creations warranted.

Doc Ock.

Dr. Otto Octavius, a nuclear physicist who apparently went off the rails when his prosthetic arms corrupted his mind. Michelle still wasn't quite sure how that was possible but then again, she didn't care.

Vulture.

Adrian Toomes, Michelle already knew his backstory. She had been sure that high school was over a long time ago.

The last one they had pinpointed was Electro.

Max Dillon, apparently he had been struck by lightning while he was repairing a power line and somehow that turned him into a human super conductor.

Michelle and the others had torn into their lives and still there wasn't anything useful to tell them where they were hiding.

As she started sorting her research, she slapped various papers down on the table. When she was done, Michelle glanced up at the other two faces indelibly burned into her mind. The Sandman and the pelt clad man who they caught on one of the video feeds. Neither had a real name yet but she had a sneaking sensation that the latter would be the hardest to find so she was fixated on him. He didn't even have a moniker. He was like a ghost and so far FRIDAY's efforts to identify him had been as successful as their own. Michelle would find him though because something in her told her that he was the key to hurting as many of these people as possible.

* * *

**I hope you have a wonderful night/day and stay creative!**

**-Lily**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey everyone,**

**Thank you to those who favorited and followed, it means a lot and it's really nice to get those emails :) **

**Before I start, I wanted to give a shout out and say thank you to:**

** \- the fantabulous carajiggirl, You are so awesome, thank you for always reviewing :) And that is definitely something that I wanted to look at in this story so I'm glad that you said that because that makes me think I'm setting it up in a way that makes sense!**

** \- the wonderful xsheepix, Thank you so much, I'm so glad you like it and I hope you enjoy this chapter too! **

**I also wanted to apologize to the guest who reviewed for any confusion about the character relationships. I didn't realize that I could mark Peter and MJ as in a relationship and while this story definitely has a huge focus on Tony and Peter, I like writing MJ so I wanted to include her reactions as well. Again, I'm sorry if you're still reading!**

**Alright I think that's all I have for now so...**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

As the others laid out bedrolls and tried to get comfortable, Nebula noticed that once again Tony was not among them. This had been a regular pattern for the last few days and one that the others had noticed. Every night, she watched them toss worried glances his way but no one seemed quite sure how to address the situation. Nebula had the same reservations, oftentimes watching him throughout the night as he sat alone, always facing away from camp, always silent but she wasn't sure what to say. He operated normally during the day, albeit with a slightly shorter fuse and more biting jabs, but he functioned. This time though, they were fighting in the morning and she didn't want to run the risk of a distracted combatant.

And she was worried about her friend.

The shadows lengthened with the setting sun and the others started to tell stories so Nebula took her chance. Tony was sitting by himself on a rock just far enough away from camp to avoid obvious attention. As she got closer she realized he was holding his head in his hands. Nebula frowned.

She carefully stepped behind him and laid her hand on his arm.

Tony jumped and reflexively squeaked in alarm as his gaze shot to her. Recognition clarified in his narrowed eyes, before he scrunched his nose and turned back to the darkened world in front of him.

Nebula took that as an invitation and sat down.

For a time, they were silent. The only noises were the quiet calls of nocturnal animals growing steadily louder with the rise of the first moon and, from time to time, the muffled laughter as some story reached its conclusion. Through it all, Tony and Nebula stared.

It was only when Nebula heard the quiet chattering behind them die down as the others slowly drifted off to sleep that she risked breaking his tentative acceptance of her presence. She kept her voice low, "Tony, why are you here?"

Tony didn't look at her, just responded in a monotone, "Rocket said he needed me."

Nebula narrowed her eyes before she challenged that, "You could have easily said no. No one would have blamed you for choosing to grieve for your son." Then she repeated a little more directly, "Why are you here?"

Tony sighed before he murmured the truth, "Peter."

Nebula cocked her head to the side but didn't understand what Peter had to do with Tony's presence.

Tony glanced sideways and read her confusion. He sighed a little heavier and finally turned fully toward her, "He would have been here no questions asked…" He trailed off as he tried to explain but when he finally continued, doubt crept into his tone, "I guess…I need to be here because he can't be."

Then all the dark thoughts and insecurity started to spill out, "I just...I have to do what he would have done because I can't help but think that I failed him...I'm not sure how, I've been trying to figure it out, but I had to have failed because I don't deserve to be here when he isn't." He fixed Nebula with an agonizing gaze before he kept rambling, "He's a huge reason why I have anything good in my life…if it wasn't for him _and_ Pepper…and I couldn't..." Tony trailed off as he realized he had taken a leap into territory he wasn't comfortable sharing. He clamped his mouth shut and dropped his head back into his hand.

Nebula watched him carefully. She didn't have any standing to address any of this, so she just listened while he excised some of his shame and guilt. That was something she had plenty of experience with. When he trailed off, she looked at him expectantly, encouraging what she hoped was a cathartic experience.

Tony turned his head so his cheek was resting on his upturned hand, expecting to see some kind of judgement. Instead, all he saw was quiet encouragement. Inadvertently, he continued, albeit with slightly less revealing confessions. He quickly shifted back to his guilt, "I should have been better, I should have been there. I just…know that if I had been there sooner…" But even that was dangerous so Tony swallowed back the rest of his thoughts, he could dwell on that when he wasn't light-years from home.

Nebula frowned. She had every confidence that when Tony got to his son, he did everything humanly- and superhumanly-possible to save Peter. Still, she held her tongue because he didn't seem like he was done talking.

Tony switched gears again and murmured, "He would have liked this." Tony couldn't keep the slight smile off his face or out of his voice as he flicked his free hand over his shoulder toward the camp and continued, "He would have loved going into space." He paused when Nebula shot him a look and he scoffed as he amended the comment, "He would have loved going into space without the looming threat of a big purple dick trying to destroy half the universe."

When Nebula nodded her acceptance of the correction with a slight smirk, Tony kept going with a half-smile, "He would have loved camping on an alien planet. Loved working with everyone. He was so optimistic…about everything…" Tony's eyes welled a bit but he swallowed it back and said with a soft, sad smile, "I just miss him. I really miss him."

Nebula sat silently as she listened to her friend's pain, it hurt to hear it again but she also knew better than to push him. When he finally stopped talking, she murmured, "I understand, Tony. And for what little my condolences are worth, I am sorry."

Tony nodded gently before he dropped his head back into his hands.

Nebula slipped back into silence but her hand never left his shoulder. She waited a short time before she dipped her head even with his bowed one before she offered, "We can help you get your revenge when this is over. Surely it is the least we can do."

Tony nodded again but didn't look up. They lapsed back into silence only this time the quiet din of their friends' conversations didn't break the nocturnal sounds.

When the third moon rose, it marked the few hours of night left. Without warning, Tony stood and laid his hand on Nebula's shoulder. He looked down and said, "Thank you for trying, for your condolences, for your offer. Once this is over, I might take you up on it." He let his hand slip and headed toward the camp.

* * *

It was a relatively simple plan, but one that required some careful maneuvering. It took them a few days of arguing amongst themselves and trying to solve the problem on their own before they turned to the Aakonians. They learned from the scientists that the creatures they had manipulated hated high pitched sounds but when the Avengers started to do tests with that information, it seemed to be more than hatred, the sounds seemed to actively hurt the notibbles (true to his word, Quill had come up with a new name). That had given Tony an idea.

He worked with Rocket and Nebula to create something like the targeted noise emitters Obadiah had used to steal the arc reactor all those years ago.

It formed the backbone of their plan once it was paired with the behavioral patterns the Guardians had noticed previously. The notibbles seemed to have some kind of collective consciousness that caused creatures within a certain proximity to react when one was in pain. They didn't attack unless they were provoked and attacking them meant heading into the field, so the final hashed out plan was to attack specific creatures with the sound and lure them, and any others coming to help, out of the protection of the field. That would give the team on the ground a chance to thin the herd. The downside was they would need to be spread out from each other in order to keep the creatures from just extending the field. That reality meant Sam, Rhodey, and Tony were air support until the herd had been thinned enough that Tony and Rhodey could deploy Rocket's incendiary device into the center of the cluster.

While Tony and the others built the devices, Gamora, Quill, Steve, and Sam reconnoitered the notibbles, locating the center, where Rocket thought they were reproducing. Once they had that information and everything was ready to go, it was just a question of getting into place. Regardless of how smoothly it worked, it was going to be a slugfest, a bloody slugfest.

* * *

It was barely a few hours after Tony had fallen asleep that they woke and slipped into predetermined locations around the field. The twin suns had just started to crest over the horizon when Steve murmured into the mics, "Is everyone ready?"

Quill's annoyed grumble was evident as he built on the Captain's question, "Does everyone remember their job?"

The responding, almost comically quiet, groans were enough to signal the group's frustration at Quill's perceived pettiness.

Rocket sniped, "We're good, just call it."

Quill hurriedly counted down and on his order, the team on the ground deployed the sound devices. The hidden group waited with bated breath for the devices to have an effect. After only a few seconds, Quill took the opportunity pester, "Rocket, I thought you said these things would work?"

"They will work." The raccoon bit back, "You just have to be patient." Thankfully for Rocket, everyone was far enough away they couldn't see his concerned scowl.

Tony chimed in, "Maybe it just takes time for them to actually register the sou…" He wasn't able to finish his thought before the first creatures roared their anger.

Steve's voice cut through now obvious sound, "Now!"

The team on the ground stepped forward and gave the angry creatures targets while Tony, Rhodey, and Sam took to the skies. Almost immediately, small clusters started to break away, leaving the protection of the field as they charged at the danger directly ahead of them. Once they got close enough, the heavy armor, sharp claws, and angry snarls were more intimidating than anyone had originally assumed.

In a building crescendo, the attack started. Rocket's chattering guns were the first to sound followed by the simultaneous howls of the melee fighters. Quill was the first one to start talking and he yelled over the mic, "Rocket, I thought you said the modifications to my blasters would cut through the armor."

The raccoon shouldered his gun a little higher with a sneer before he shot back, "No, I said they should cut through the armor…I never guaranteed it." He smirked as he continued to mow down notibbles coming toward him.

"I'm having no trouble at all." Thor's booming voice broke through the frustrated comments just as Gamora's teasing tone echoed his sentiment, "That's why I always preferred blades." She smirked at Quill's grumbled response but it was drowned out as a powerful bolt of lightning rippled out from Thor's location, frying the notibbles in their metallic armor.

Sam joined the jesting, "Why are you on the ground? Can't you fly, man?" He dove down to help Bruce just in time to take out a large cluster of notibbles that had broken free of the field.

Tony darted between the groups, ensuring that any one person didn't get overwhelmed with more than a handful at a time. His suit was working to its full capacity and FRIDAY quickly learned the best way to target the notibbles so he was able to take them out efficiently. Rhodey followed his lead.

* * *

It took nearly all day but eventually the field started to thin and where it had been just a reflective mirror of metal that hid all hope of blue-green grass, patches started to show through and the time dilation itself started to weaken. Then a large group broke away from the field, headed toward Gamora and Nebula. Tony caught it. Pushing his suit, he darted toward them, dropping in just as the cluster swarmed them.

Rhodey landed next to the device, the helmet dropping back off his suit as he scanned the skies for Tony. It only took a few moments before he caught the signature red and gold dropping down on the other side of the battlefield. Groaning in frustration, Rhodey called, "Tony, we gotta go!"

Tony drove back another cluster and yelled, "I can't. You just have to wait!"

Rhodey dropped his hand back onto the machine with a metallic clink before he voiced his frustration, "We can't just wait, Tony! We have to get this thing into the center of the cluster." He started to study the device, trying to figure out if he would be able to lift and arm it on his own.

"I can't leave them!" Tony called in return as he drove back another group, getting a chance to survey the damaged field and catching Gamora doubled over and breathing hard as Nebula stood in front of her.

Rhodey heard the panic in Tony's voice and he quietly cursed. He raised his hand and calmly retorted, "Sam's wings can't handle it, it has to be you."

Then Sam solved the problem for them as his voice cut over the tension, "I'm here. Go help Rhodes."

Tony swallowed the lump in his throat, gave a sharp nod and took off to where Rhodey was waiting.

* * *

Natasha watched Michelle as she distractedly drew circles on the pad in front of her while she stared off to the middle distance. She watched until the pen dropped off the paper and Michelle still continued to draw, disregarding the change in medium. Natasha sighed as she dropped her head to her chest and rolled her shoulders tiredly before she finally looked back up and carefully asked, "How are you doing?" Unconsciously, Natasha prepped for Michelle's anger.

Michelle's gaze solidified with a few blinks but she couldn't recall what the older woman had asked so she shot her a questioning look.

Natasha sighed and repeated her missed question, "How are you doing?"

Michelle shrugged before she half-heartedly offered, "As long as I focus on finding them, I can deal."

Natasha scrunched her face in disbelief and cautioned, "That's not exactly a ringing endorsement for how you're handling it, MJ."

Michelle looked back down at the notepad under her hands before she noticed the pen on the table. She distractedly tried to rub it away as she answered frankly, "I know, but I'm having trouble with anything else. I can't do this if I let my mind wander and I _need _to do this because that will make me feel better." She licked her thumb and scrubbed a little more vigorously at the doodles.

Natasha watched her with concern. She waited until Michelle removed enough of the stain to look back up at her. She tried to frame her next statement delicately, "I know we've talked about this before but it's okay to talk to someone about stuff like this. I know that Tony's got a few people on retainer who are pretty good."

"What am I gonna talk about?" Michelle started, her voice paradoxically flat and pleading, "I mean seriously, I don't have anything more than to say he's dead and I'm sad about it. What're they going to say to that?" There was a twinge in her voice that almost sounded like a whine so she quickly covered it up, "I've dealt with loss before and I'll do it again. I just need to do it by myself and in my own way."

Natasha conceded quietly, "Okay." Even as she resolved to watch her more closely.

After a few beats, Michelle flicked her gaze up to Natasha and murmured, "I saw him."

"What?" Natasha wrinkled her brow as she tried to reason that out because it kind of sounded like Michelle was talking about a ghost.

Michelle sighed and explained sheepishly, "I made Tony take me to see him in the med bay." She sniffled slightly as she tried to control her annoying sadness.

"Oh." Natasha breathed out but she also sensed her opportunity to drive her point home, so she pushed, "Maybe that's something to talk to someone about…"

Michelle fixed her with a gaze that communicated her unwillingness to engage with that suggestion and the conversation awkwardly fell there.

Eventually, Michelle looked back up and her voice was as hard as her gaze when she asked, "Nat, can I ask you something?"

Hoping to make this even a fraction of the way better, the spy responded, "Of course."

Michelle took a deep breath and swallowed back her better impulses before she began, "There's no way I'll be able to go with you when we find them…" When she saw Natasha's expression change, Michelle hurriedly added, "And I am pragmatic enough to understand why. But I need you to promise me that you won't hold back; that you'll hurt, seriously hurt, as many of them as you can."

Natasha studied her for a moment before she dipped her head and promised, "I'll do my best."

"Thank you." Michelle said with a soft sniffle. She hated asking it but at the same time, she needed it to happen.

* * *

It took them about two full weeks before Michelle broke the quiet concentration in the room, "I found him." She reached forward and pulled a few more pages out from the stack in front of her as she laid them out, her gaze skittering across them.

"What'd you mean?" Natasha asked quickly, slipping around the table as she looked over her shoulder.

"That guy…" She pointed up at the board, "The hunter. His name is Sergei Kravinoff." She flipped through a notebook before she landed on it and quickly explained, "He's old, like really old, and he's been Kraven for a really long time, that's why it was so hard to find his real name. His family had a castle in Tsaritsyn, Russia…it's… uhhh…" She leaned forward and tried to look at the map in the center of the table.

"Volgograd," Natasha supplied as she pulled it up on the screen next to their antique board.

Michelle nodded as she marked it as well and she added, "Right, Volgograd, today." Then she continued with a little more volume as she continued to address the room, "Apparently, it was a family holding from the early-1800s until they lost it during the 1917 revolution when the Kravinoff family emigrated to the US…"

Michelle paused when Clint's surprised expression and hurried question interrupted, "He's over a hundred years old?"

Michelle nodded, "I don't even know when he was born but like I said, he's old." Then she continued, "And he's got some weird obsessions with hunting. Big game hunting was a pastime while he was in Russia and it doesn't seem like he stopped once he came over here. I'm guessing from this..." She pulled up a list of what looked like targets before she kept going, "that he likes the challenge of hunting and he's moved on to people."

Natasha turned up her nose, narrowed her eyes dangerously, "He hunted Peter?"

Michelle scrunched her face slightly before she sheepishly nodded, "I think so. I'm guessing that's why they knew Peter was Spider-Man. At least that's what Tony told me when he dragged me back here." Michelle shook herself back into the present and continued, "Anyway, his family estate was sold to a rather shady looking company a few years ago, which doesn't mean much since the deed was lost a while ago but we were looking for connections…And from what I've found, it's a pretty huge compound with a decent amount of land which would be perfect for hiding. Plus, it's in Russia which is over the Atlantic…" Michelle trailed off as she started to question her own findings.

"No, that makes sense," Natasha murmured as she pulled satellite images of the city up on the screen. It was an easy enough estate to find because it sat on the edge with a wide expanse of land around it. As the image panned. She asked, "Do we know who bought it? I know you mentioned a company but did you find anything else about it?"

Michelle shook her head and answered, "No but I haven't looked into it yet."

"It's an angle." Natasha said as she started reconfiguring the search parameters.

* * *

It took a few more hours before Bucky blurted out, "Dmitri Smerdyakov."

"Whose that?" Michelle asked hurriedly. Natasha and Clint shared a worried look behind her back before they dealt with the problem at hand.

Bucky pulled up the information "The owner behind that company or at least the person who was bankrolling it, his name is Smerdyakov. I'm guessing its some kind of alias for your hunter."

As they started to dig through the two names, the pieces slowed started to fall into place. The two were related, step-brothers, but they couldn't find any evidence that Smerdyakov that was actually involved in the attack or was even at the estate.

* * *

By the end of the day, they finally sat back and took in the complete picture, well as least enough of a picture to deal with the bastards. Finally, Clint broke the silence, "Do we know when the others will be back?"

"I don't think so…" Natasha trailed off, her eyes never leaving the intricate connections on the board. Finally she said, "FRIDAY, do we know anything about the status of the other team?"

"No, Agent Romanoff, I have not been in communication with Boss's team. I think it probably has something to do with the problem they are dealing with."

Michelle looked between the three Avengers in front of her before she asked, "So what does that mean?"

Natasha shared another look with Clint before she confidently answered, "We plan and we get ready to go for when they do get here."

* * *

When Tony finally stepped off the Benatar, Michelle was already there. She had asked FRIDAY to let her know the moment the others hit the upper atmosphere.

Michelle immediately laid into him, her voice was a snarl, "A week and a half…we've known where they are for a week and a half…" She acknowledged his obvious confusion at her attack but ignored it, now was not the time for her to give in to her empathy. Instead she pressed, switching topics with a sarcastic pretension, "Did you do your duty? Did you finish what you _needed_ to?"

Tony was not ready for this. He couldn't do petulance. He couldn't do indignation. He just couldn't. He snapped at her, "Shut up, Michelle. Just shut up. I can't do this right now."

That was not the right thing to say.

Michelle took a threatening step forward and snapped, "Oh you can't do this with me right now, but you could leave for a month? How does that make sense? Because let's be honest, you didn't have to go, you wanted to. You wanted to run because that's what you do when things get hard." Michelle knew that was a lie but she was angry and she knew how much he worried about that, knew how much that would hurt. And she wanted to hurt him. She continued with a snarl, "You can't handle what happened to Peter so you chose the easy way out. You found some mission that could have conceivably been done without you and you left." The disgust was clear on her face when she drove her point home, "You didn't stay with Morgan or Pepper, you didn't stay to help us, you just gave some sham justification about duty and left. You. Ran." Michelle spat, her heart dropping when she saw the added pain she had caused. She wanted to stop but she had never backed down from anything.

Tony tried hard to swallow his frustration and sudden tears at her tirade. He was too hurt and too raw and too tired to deal with her anger, as understandable as it was. So he told her as much. He fought to keep his voice as even as possible, "Attacking me won't help anything, that's the action of a child. I already have two. I can't deal with a third, especially not one who _knows_ better than most what we do and the price it exacts."

Michelle sneered at the backhanded comment before she leaned forward and snarled, "Don't patronize me, you gigantic ass. You have one son _left_ and I'm not acting childish, I'm pissed. There's a difference. Don't pretend I don't have a right to be. We've done _everything_ we could while we waited for you and the rest of the Avengers." She looked over his shoulder then and mocked the group on the ramp, "That's still your name, right? The Avengers? Usually that implies some kind of swift resolve to the event you should be avenging." Michelle watched as the collected group standing frozen behind Tony bowed their heads at her anger. Then she redirected her ire back to Tony, "You don't want to deal with the hard stuff, so you went off to do something easy. You let this sit and you let it fester and you condemned us to deal with it while you excised your own demons."

Tony lost his control, his voice building from a low hiss, "Don't. Don't stand there and tell me that I'm taking the easy way and leaving you to pick up the pieces." He thrust his finger toward the ground as he roared, "I'm doing exactly what he would have done. I didn't choose to be gone this long, it's how long it took to finish the mission. Without finishing it, millions would have died. You honestly think Peter would have been okay letting people die so we could chase his ghost?" Then he turned on the attack, "You're the one running, Michelle." Tony took a step toward her, his whole body vibrating in anger, "You're the one not dealing with this. You're the one too terrified to acknowledge your own grief. Instead you're hiding behind this veneer of confidence and strength because you're too afraid to admit that this fucking _hurts_."

Michelle stopped hard in her tracks. Her mouth fell open and all the anger drained unwillingly out of her posture.

Tony saw it and his own frustrated ebbed when he realized that's what this was, she hurt and she was dealing with it the best way she could. Tony forced himself to take a breath and once he did, he continued with a slightly quieter tone, "It hurts that he's dead, Michelle. It hurts and its okay to admit it but it's also okay to try and be better for it. I'm _trying_." Then he looked her dead in the eyes and ordered, "And even if you can't try yet, you can't do this, you can't blame me for doing what I have to. I didn't hurt you, I didn't kill him, and I'm going to keep doing what I need to do to help the people he would have. That includes protecting planets light-years away that are facing extinction." He took a deep breath and laid his hands on her shoulders, "You have to find a way to start to deal with this MJ. I'm not saying you have to be okay or move on or not be angry but you have to find a way to function that's not shutting down." He flicked his hand between them and added, "This…by the way…this is shutting down."

Michelle swallowed hard and nodded. He was right, she knew he was right and for as much as she hated it, she knew that was the truth.

Tony held her wide-eyed gaze and continued, "I'm going to eat some real food and I'm going to take a shower," He scrunched his face for a moment before he added with a little levity, "Maybe not in that order but you get the point." He watched the agonizing woman in front of him and the flippancy fell before he continued more evenly, "As soon as I'm done, I'll come back down and you can tell me everything but I need to do this right now." He cocked his head slightly to the side as he looked at her and asked, "Okay?"

Michelle nodded again as she pressed her hand up under her nose for a moment, her shoulders falling slightly inward in an effort to protect herself. She didn't move forward, just stood there, shaking.

Tony watched her anguish and he was suddenly afraid to let go or leave her so he quietly asked, "Will you be okay if I'm gone for a bit?"

Michelle's gaze snapped to his and the anger was back in her eyes even if it was a shadow of her earlier ire. She hissed, "I'll be fine."

Tony sighed and let some of his frustration seep in when he tiredly added, "Come on, MJ, you know that's not what I meant."

Michelle's gaze softened and she dropped her gaze before she quietly acknowledged, "I know. I'm sorry. I just…"

Tony cut her off with a wave of his hand, "I get it…trust me, I get it."

Michelle didn't look up she just nodded with a little more confidence. Then she murmured, "We're in the conference room on the private floor. I'll wait there."

"Just give me thirty minutes."

* * *

True to his word, Tony was in the room thirty minutes later. A few of the others were already there but the rest filtered in the few minutes after Tony pulled up at seat. Everyone was eerily silent as they waited for Natasha, Clint, Bucky, and Michelle to fill them in.

It didn't take long for the team to dryly lay out the information and while there were a few questions that filled in some missing elements, ultimately within forty minutes, everyone was on the same page.

They had lost Tony's visual attention early in the presentation as his gaze was fixed on the images on the wall but it became obvious he was still listening when his shaking hand worsened and then disappeared off the table. When all the questions were done and the room fell silent, Tony's gaze didn't shift and his voice was a low growl when he asked, "When can we leave?"

Natasha looked over at him and her voice echoed his when she simply said, "Now."

Tony brought his hands down on the table and finally met her gaze before he asked in a feral hiss, "What're we waiting for?"

"You." Michelle jumped in with barely concealed anger. Then she bit her lip and looked down at the table, squashing the unwarranted ire that she had already promised she herself would try to control. She mumbled, "Sorry." She met his gaze again, she continued in a more even tone, "Nat, Clint, and Bucky figure out the attack already. That's what they were going to talk about next." She glanced back at the tacticians before she threw in a little bit more of her own assessment, "There are a few defenses set up and from what we've been able to tell they hired some muscle so it won't just be the six of them."

Tony's eyes narrowed suspiciously when he asked, "Are they all still there?"

"From what we can tell, yes." Clint nodded as he switched the screens behind them.

"So what's the…" Tony was cut off when Steve's apprehensive voice stopped the next phase of the discussion.

"Why?" Steve asked carefully and he elaborated once all eyes turned to him. He shrugged and explained, "I mean, we didn't know where they were…and Tony promised revenge on live TV once we found them, so why would they all still be in the same place?"

Quill threw out a quick answer, "Are they cocky?"

"Maybe…" Steve trailed off as he tried to reason through the situation.

Clint chimed in then, "I mean, we're all in the same place most of the time and we all have enemies who've sworn to end us. Maybe they just think they're stronger together and want to create a unified front for when we do attack."

Steve nodded an acquiescence to that suggestion and he uncertainly intoned, "That makes sense."

Tony was too impatient to let this line of reasoning continued, he called the room back to the matter at hand with a harsh, "It doesn't matter." He immediately looked to Steve, waiting for the man to challenge his declaration but when he didn't, Tony continued, "Enough talking, lay out the plan."

They were out of the hanger twenty minutes later.

* * *

Peter was disappointed when he woke up.

That was a shock to his slowly reengaging mind. But then it was followed closely by the painful realization that his family wasn't coming for him. That jarred him awake. His eyes popped open when he realized his own betrayal, he had promised himself he would fight. But he was so tired. And the pessimistic voice cut through his waning strength with the wish that his healing would end. If he didn't heal as quickly as he did, he would have been dead days ago.

He shivered hard and pulled the blanket tight around him.

As it was, his healing was slowing down. He could tell but it still wasn't slow enough to end his suffering. The only positive was they had physically left him alone for a few days. And that was the last reasonable train of thought he could muster before his world spun back into a confusing whirlwind of illusions and lies, unable to be pushed away by his wavering memories.

Mysterio's mocking overwrote any image he could conjure of his family.

Vulture's insistence that Tony was using him for his own ends and that was why he was still in this cell crushed any feeling of safety he knew from that relationship.

Ock's deadly ire at Peter's perceived betrayal caused him to question anything good about himself.

All of it was more powerful than the images he had allowed himself to hold onto and it was just another crack for the pessimistic voice to ooze into. But the battle for his mind was interrupted when his cough finally caught up to his loose awareness. He hacked into his hand as the motion jarred agonizing injuries and painfully broken bones and when the tickling urge finally subsided, he collapsed into a puddle of sweat. His sickness had progressed slower than it would have for anything else but he seemed to have reached some kind of tipping point and his body was unable to fight it anymore. This was how he would die.

Peter hated the part of him was relieved when he realized that.

Finally, the part of him that promised his family was coming fought back. He was still alive and as long as he was alive, there as a chance they would still get to him. Unfortunately, the strength of that voice ebbed when the coughing fit reignited.

Once it finished, Peter curled even tighter into the blanket, giving into the torrent swirling in his mind.

If his ears weren't ringing so heavily and his head wasn't so stuffy he would have heard the explosions ring through the upper levels of the castle.

* * *

**Some of the stuff about Kraven and Chameleon is based on stuff I remember from the comic books and the animated series and some of it is tweaked to fit with what I needed for the story. Overall though, I hope it worked :)**

**Feel free to let me know what you thought.**

**I hope you have a wonderful day/night and stay creative!**

**\- Lily**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey everyone,**

**I hope you all had and are having a wonderful holiday season, regardless of what you choose (or don't choose) to celebrate :) **

**I want to say thank you to all the wonderful people who favorited and followed because its cool to see. And as is tradition, a huge thank you to my reviewers:**

**\- the fantastically marvelous xsheepix, Glad that cliffhanger worked, I kinda feel like I need to get better at those as a writer so that's great to hear. And you'll have to read to find out ;) Hopefully you like this chapter too!**

**\- the amazingingly awesome carajiggirl, Ummm...I don't think I'm allowed to say ;) but your comment definitely made me laugh so thank you for that! I hope you like this chapter and that it answers your questions.**

**Alright, that's all I have for right now so...**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

They hit the castle hard.

The Benatar opened fire with a precise barrage as soon as they were in range. They weren't trying to bring down the castle, that would make it too hard for them to find their quarry. Instead, they fired mostly over the ramparts with only every few blasts actually rocking the centuries old building. While they fired into the battlements, multiple combatants started to appear on the roof.

As the Guardians provided the distraction, a cloaked quinjet landed near the rear wall of the structure. A few well placed charges ended the protection promised by that wall.

The Avengers slipped inside. It wasn't an entrance that afforded them any kind of stealth but the plan was based on shock and awe, not covertness. It was a large room with high ceilings and what used to be a polished wooden floor, probably some kind of dance room or entertainment space, long since disused. They didn't make it far before the door burst open and a contingent of the muscle they had been warned about bound in.

"Well, somebody knows we're here," Bucky quipped, pulling the weapon off his shoulder. Both sides sized each other up for a brief moment before Tony surged forward.

He dove into the center of the group and the unlucky few he met first took the full brunt of his anger. He forwent the guns and his suit's capabilities because there was a sickening satisfaction in using his fists and repulsors. He injured and killed indiscriminately as he tore threw the nameless opponents, ignoring the blows that ricocheted off his armor.

Tony was so focused on removing the people between him and his revenge that he missed the assistance of the others. They were steps behind him and focused on systematically destroying the threat with more violence than any of them had intended. It didn't take long before they were standing with pile of bodies at their feet. As the smoke settled, Clint surveyed the room before he quietly said, "I don't think there's much else here, we should keep moving."

There was a silent confirmation of his assessment so Steve and Bucky took the lead, moving out into the hallway. They stayed eyes forward, watching for threats while the others swept any rooms they passed. Most were empty and they didn't get far before the salvo from above ended and Quill called over their coms, "We're in. Did you find any of them?"

Steve gave a clipped response, "Not yet."

Quill sighed, his voice muffled as he said something unintelligible to the rest of the Guardians. Then his voice rang out clearly again, "We'll start searching the upper levels. Do we have a rendezvous point?"

Steve answered curtly, "No, but we'll let you know as soon as we have a suitable room."

* * *

The Avengers swept the lower floor of the expansive building finding very little but long-disused and tossed rooms. Intermittently, they came across a room that was in better repair with beds crammed into each of the corners and sparse belongings tucked underneath. But they didn't come across any other defenders or find they targets. After about twenty minutes, they came to a formal dining room. It was a long, heavy room with what looked like the original furniture still in place for some czarist feast. It wasn't tossed or destroyed like the other rooms and the only tell-tale sign of disuse was the layer of dust evenly spaced across everything.

They cautiously moved farther into the room, looking for any type of disturbances in the dust, any moved chairs, anything that was obviously out of place. They made it about half way through before Tony growled in frustration, "There's nothing in here." He turned on his heel and stalked toward the exit before he noticed the large ornate door was no where to be seen. He murmured "What the hell?" as he closed the gap and started to feel along the wall unsuccessfully. Looking back over his shoulder, he asked incredulously, "Where the hell is the door?"

Natasha turned back to him with a look of disbelief before her sharp eyes noticed the same thing and her face scrunched in confusion. She joined him, feeling along the wall for some indication of the exit. The others stepped cautiously closer and just as they made it, the room shifted. The walls disappeared completely and the room opened up into a wide, dark expanse. Tony could see the others but not the source of the change. His helmet reformed and he tentatively asked, "Is everyone else seeing this?"

There was a chorus of affirmatives before a familiar voice cut across the confusion, "Help!" Tony's heart dropped as he spun in what felt like slow motion to see Peter at the other end of the room, pinned high above the floor Doc Ock's arms. He was struggling but didn't seem to be able to free himself so he just kept yelling. He wasn't in his suit, just a pair of grey sweats and a sweatshirt.

Tony immediately darted forward, forgetting everything about what that shift could mean. He was so focused, he missed the repetitive bark as Natasha emptied a clip into Doc Ock before Tony got close enough. Instead, Tony targeted him as well, trying to get him to release Peter so he could catch him. It was as though the dark reality of the last month disappeared; at least until Tony paid enough attention to realize that every shot passed through the man in front of him. Crushing the obnoxious well of hope in his chest, he quickly reversed course, trying to get back to the others before they were cloaked or obscured or whatever the hell Mysterio did to hide his tricks. As he got close enough, he growled, "It's Mysterio. We have to stay together and nothing we're about to see is real." There was a painful twinge in his chest when he admitted that because even though it was an illusion, it had been Peter.

Tony dropped and reflexively touched Bruce's shoulder to make sure that his hand didn't pass through. When he hit solid muscle, Tony breathed a slight sigh of relief before he returned his attention to the son he could still see pinned to the end of the wall. Without warning, Peter and Ock burst into a cloud of dust and the world around them exploded into a swirling storm, electricity cracked and struck the ground near the group.

No one flinched.

Steve's booming voice echoed through the space, "We know it's you Mysterio. Why don't you just come down here and we'll take it easy on you."

Natasha murmured to the man standing next to him, "What are you doing, Steve?" She had made Michelle a promise after all.

"Yah I'm with her," Tony murmured, "What're you doing?"

Steve ignored them and called out again as the storm swirled more chaotically before a lightning bolt struck him. He doubled over in pain and choked out, "The lightning is definitely real."

Once the reality of that part of the illusion was proven, the lightning started in earnest, crackling down and striking everything in its path. It drove them farther and farther apart. And suddenly, like someone pulled a breaker, everything stopped. The swirling storm quieted, the lightning stopped, and everyone was gone. Each person was trapped in their own pocket of expansive blackness.

After a breath's interlude, the world exploded again. This time it was a confusing display of kaleidoscoping color, accented by the dangerous strikes of multi-colored lightning that continued to fizzle in the room. Mysterio drove them farther from each other, using twisting schemes and suddenly thrusting them forward into a broken window or backward through dizzying space. And once they were suitably overwhelmed, the illusion dropped them into the center of the ruins of the Avenger's Compound. They still couldn't see each other but all of them were talking into their mics as they tried to ignore the illusion and find one another.

Finally Tony ended the futile struggle. He ordered, "Everyone down!"

He activated the thrusters and used the lasers in his gauntlets, rising slowly as he rotated. He loudly challenged as he rose, "Try that lightning bullshit on me now." He hit someone with his first pass, evidenced when a decidedly human scream echoed above the crackling fires and crumbling stone of the Compound but Tony ignored it. He kept rising, destroying drones and starting to break the consistency of the illusion. A few lightning bolts actually hit him but they didn't do much more than overpower his suit, he had prepared for that after the last time. The red glow of the laser cut through the grim scene and as more of Mysterio's drones fell out of the air, the illusion shifted until it shimmered and fell away.

They were back in the room they had entered.

He cut the repulsors on his boots and dropped. Natasha and Clint were already stalking toward Mysterio, who was slumped on the floor holding his shoulder. It looked as if he had tried to dodge Tony's lasers but hadn't quite made it. Natasha grabbed his injured arm and wrenched him upright, relishing the cry of pain as the wound was twisted mercilessly. She heaved him to a chair before she twisted his arm into place and slammed nanobot cuffs too tightly around his wrists. Just to set the tone, she backhanded him. Then, for good measure, she yanked his head forward and slammed her fist into his face.

On the other side of the massive dining room, Electro was finally visible hovering near the top of the room. As soon as he appeared, Steve heaved his shield toward him, catching him square in the chest. Electro dropped hard, crumpling as soon as he hit the ground. Steve followed Natasha's lead and dumped Electro into a chair.

* * *

"Where are the rest of them?" Tony snarled down into the smirking face.

Mysterio enjoyed the obvious anger on Tony's face before he sniped, "You were always so impulsive."

Tony unconsciously shook his head before he incredulously snapped, "You don't know anything about me."

Mysterio's smirk morphed into an exaggerated sneer before he retorted, "I know that you stole my tech and never gave me any credit."

"I didn't steal anything from y…" Tony reacted to that sentiment until he realized none of that mattered and he redirected the conversation, "You know what, I don't give a fuck about that, you killed my kid." Tony slammed his gloved fist into Mysterio's face before he had a chance to answer. Then he snarled, "Where are the others?"

Mysterio shot Tony a look of confusion but chose not to address it, instead he smugly sniped, "They're not here, it's just the two of us." He flicked his fingers with as much of a flourish as he could before the smile replaced his confusion.

"Bullshit." Tony snapped. He leaned back down into that smiling face and snarled, "Tell me where they are."

Mysterio's smile widened.

Tony lost his composure. His vision narrowed dangerously and he capriciously slammed his fist into Mysterio's teeth, savoring the crunch of bone and the pained groan that trailed it. He followed the attack with another blow to his face that drove Mysterio's head to the side. When he didn't right himself fast enough, Tony used his hair to yank him upright before he slammed his fist back into Mysterio's nose. Once. Twice. Before finally something in his face broke and Tony watched with morbid relish as Mysterio's head snapped violently back over the chair.

It took him a few moments but Mysterio slowly recovered, the smile falling as he looked up at Tony with horrified, wide eyes. Tony gave him a wicked smile before he pulled his arm back again. This time the blow didn't fall.

The pain of the aborted swing shocked Tony. He turned his angry gaze toward the owner of the arm and spat, "Let me go, Steve."

"No." Steve retorted before he shook his head and said, "You can't do this. We need him right now."

"No we don't." Tony yanked his arm free of Steve's grasp and he turned toward him. "We can find the others without him." Then he snarled back toward Mysterio, "I want to kill him. Slowly."

For the second time, Mysterio's smile faltered.

But Steve maintained Tony's attention with a hand on his shoulder and calmly said, "You can't do that." And when Tony opened his mouth for an angry reply, Steve cut him off, "You know why you can't, so let's not pretend that reason doesn't exist."

Tony narrowed his eyes angrily before he growled at Steve's implications. Then he threw his hand up and turned away, "Fine. You deal with him." But before Steve could step forward, Tony spun on his heel and drove his fist hard into Mysterio's face. The snapping sound was undeniable as his eye socket snapped under the attack and when Tony pulled his fist away, the bloody mess that was Mysterio's left eye was horrifyingly obvious.

"Tony!" Steve yelled in surprise.

Mysterio's head snapped back again before it fell forward onto his chest. He was unconscious but, much to Tony's chagrin, he was still breathing. Tony spat at his feet and ordered, "Forget him, we'll find them."

The room had fallen quiet with the violent attack, Natasha was the only one smirking at Mysterio's condition and she backed Tony's statement. Pulling out her weapon, she calmly cleared the chamber before she said, "He's right. We can find the others without either of them." The smoothness of her tone did nothing to ease the implications as she stared hard at Electro.

Steve stepped between them, "We are not doing that. We're not them." Bucky stepped next to him.

"We could be." Tony added, appreciating Natasha's sentiment. But before anyone could acknowledge the murderous sentiment, Rhodey tugged Tony back away from the group, hissing, "Come here."

Tony resisted at first, turning his burning gaze on his friend before the cloudiness of rage cleared a bit and he allowed Rhodey to pull him out of earshot.

Rhodey pulled him far enough away to quietly snap, "What are you doing? You're acting insane."

"Not really, I just hit him a few times." The satisfaction in his tone was horrifying but it dissipated quickly enough when he snapped, "And why does that matter?" Tony asked as he wrenched his arm free from Rhodey's grasp and stepped forward aggressively.

Rhodey raised his voice to match Tony's anger, "We need information from him. He's bound. He's not actively trying to kill…"

Tony snarled at him, cutting him off before he snapped, "He. Killed. _Peter_. Did you forget that?"

Rhodey took a step back because he was right. It was easy for him to justify Mysterio's life in the moment, it was more difficult when Tony brought up the impetus for the attack. Still, he needed to get Tony to understand what they needed so he lowered his voice and spoke carefully, "Regardless of how badly he deserved that, we're still here to do a job. We need to know where the others are before they can escape and this…" He thrust his hand toward the bloody mess in the chair, "is not the way to get it done."

When Tony still didn't fully rein in his anger, Rhodey sighed and said, "Look, just let Steve take care of this for right now, okay?"

Tony looked over to see the captain already talking to Electro. Tony dropped his gaze to the floor, swallowing back the tears that welled in his eyes when he realized what he had done. He knew it wasn't right, knew he couldn't beat a man to death but at the same time, he wanted to so badly.

As he waffled between the two realities, Mysterio coughed his way back into consciousness. He spat a glob of mucus and blood onto the ground before he widened his eye and lazily rolled his head. His left eye was swollen shut and leaking blood, while the rest of his face was already swollen. His voice slurred when he asked, "Where'd Stark go?" He lethargically tossed his head before he mumbled, "…find him…?"

Assuming that was a summons, Tony stepped into the partially blinded man's sightline, "I'm right here. You ready to tell me where the others are?"

Before he could respond, Clint's voice crackled over the mics, "Tony, you need to get down here."

Tony sighed but didn't stand from where he was leaned over Mysterio, instead he barked, "Can't right now Clint, I'm a little busy."

Clint's voice bordered on appalled when he said, "Not for this you're not. Get down here."

Tony felt his stomach twist when he heard the tone of his voice, he couldn't even begin to wonder what terrible thing Clint had found in the bowels of this monstrous mansion. While he gathered the courage to find yet another thing out about these people, Mysterio's good eye wandered up toward Tony and he mocked lazily, "Oh hey, you're still here."

Tony scoffed and threw out, "Not for long, you're getting your wish, I'm leaving."

Mysterio closed his good eye for a long moment before he slurred, "Goin' to find 'im?"

Tony turned back slowly and leaned down into Mysterio's face, "That's the second time you've said that, what are you talking about?"

"Pet'r…" The man slurred again before he dazedly continued, "He still calls for you, ya know?" Mysterio's head lulled on his shoulders before he continued, "'e's 'sually confused…doesn't know what's going on…but…" He trailed off with a shrug as his concentration wandered away for a moment. Once his gaze fixed back on Tony, Mysterio continued, "…guess everyone has breakin' point."

Tony watched Mysterio for a half a moment as he tried to reconcile that information because it sounded like Mysterio was telling him that Peter was still alive. But that couldn't be right, it absolutely couldn't be right. His mouth fell open and he murmured, "What..." He didn't finish the question, just ran for the door.

* * *

Tony saw an alert Clint standing outside a random room. His bo was held tightly at his side and his gaze snapped to Tony as soon as his boots contacted the stone. Once he realized it was Tony, Clint dropped the defensive posture and allowed a horrified expression to slip across his face.

Tony looked at him nervously, the helmet gone as he asked quietly, "What is it?"

Clint swallowed hard before he choked out, "It's…Peter."

All the blood drained from Tony's face.

That couldn't be right.

If that was right then….

_Didn't matter_, he admonished his stupidity and darted forward. The room was dark and it took him a second to make out the shape huddled in the back of the room. That instinctually set his nerves on edge, if Clint had seen Peter, that meant that Peter had seen Clint and was still hiding. Tony slowed and quietly called out, "Pete?"

When there was no answering response other than a soft whimper, Tony felt the fear well up in his chest. He stopped moving and called out, "I'm gonna turn on some light, okay? I can't really see you." Tony looked back at Clint and whispered, "Is there a switch or something out there?"

After only a few moments, the lights in the room flicked on. They weren't bright, but it was enough for Tony to actually see his son. When he turned back to the huddled mass he had seen before, tears welled up. He choked out, "Pete? Is that really you?"

Peter scrambled backward, his hands scrapping across the cold stone as he tried desperately to get away from Tony. Tears started to roll down sunken cheeks and he sobbed, "You're not here. You're not real." Then his eyes darted over to where Clint had quietly stepped back into the room and he sobbed a little louder, "Neither of you are here."

Tony took a few halting steps forward, unsure exactly what was going on but unwilling to scare him, he implored, "I'm right here, Pete."

But Peter wasn't having it and he begged, "Please just leave me alone. For now, please just for now. Please just give me that." He clambered until his back hit the wall and all he had left was to curl his knees into his chest. He buried his head in his arms and started to whimper, "It's not real. It's not real."

Tony glanced back at Clint, his eyes wide and his breath hitching in his chest. He quietly asked, "What's going on?"

Clint shrugged half-heartedly, his eyes never leaving the weeping mass in front of them. His voice was soft when he explained, "I don't know. When I found him, he kind of freaked out and moved away from me but he didn't say anything like that."

Tony took a few more careful steps forward and his suit melted away. Then he turned back to Clint and murmured, "Can you step outside? Just for a minute." Clint nodded and backed out of the room without another word.

Tony wasn't sure what to do so he leaned forward a bit at the waist and whispered, "Pete? I don't know exactly what happened but no one's going to hurt you anymore, okay? I need you to trust me on that." When he didn't get a response, he slid a little closer before he started his normal struggle to sit. Carefully kicking his bad leg out in front of him, Tony tucked his good leg under him and used his arm to lever himself into a sitting position. It was a relatively long process but eventually he got there and was able to fix his attention on his son.

* * *

Peter wanted them to leave so badly.

He was so tired and so unable to fight anymore.

But only one of them did and Peter prepared himself for the pain that was going to come whenever they decided to reveal their twisted illusion. He hid against his knees, ignoring the cough battling to escape his broken chest, he didn't want them to know how sick he was so he tried to keep it inside for as long as he could. He focused hard on that until he heard an odd, grunting noise. Curiosity got the better of him and he stealthily risked a look at what was going on in front of him. He realized that whoever was Tony today was pretending to have trouble sitting. There was a crack somewhere deep in his subconscious. Without realizing it, he caught himself watching Tony struggle into a seated position. And he realized that for as often as he had seen Tony, he hadn't seen that particular problem in a long time.

Tony settled finally and then looked up into Peter's sunken, hollow eyes. He wanted to say something profound, something meaningful, something to let Peter know that he was safe. Instead he blurted out, "I've missed you, Pete. A lot."

Peter couldn't believe what he was hearing. It wasn't true. Tony wouldn't miss him. If he had he wouldn't have left him in the cell for as long as he had. This was a trick he just had to see it before it hurt him. He just continued to stare, trying to suss out the lie.

Tony let that truth hang in the air as he tipped his head toward Peter waiting for him to say something...anything. When he didn't after a few minutes, Tony continued softly, "Everybody does. MJ's been staying with us. I think she's been staying more for us than anything. Morgan's been sleeping with her nearly every night since we…since you…" Tony scrubbed his hand over his face as he tried to figure out exactly what to say here.

The use of his fiancée's nickname caught Peter's attention and that rusted box cracked just a little more, he hadn't heard 'MJ' in a while unless he was yelling it. They didn't seem to realize that was a nickname that a few people used. Peter shook his head as he tried to keep himself from justifying any of this, if he did, they would hurt him. It was a nickname, they could have just been trying it out to see if it stuck. But then Tony scrubbed his hand over his face in frustration, his hair sticking up a little at the edges and Peter couldn't help the slight wave of nostalgia that made him sick. He tried desperately to squash it.

This was all another lie.

Tony couldn't see anything going on behind Peter's eyes, they were just too blank for him to get a read on what he was thinking. As he watched Peter, he couldn't help but wish his son would move closer. Honesty, Tony just wanted to hug him but he was too freaked out by his initial reaction to make that okay. Instead, he kept going, "Since they killed you. Or at least since we thought they killed you." Tony couldn't help the sorrow and pain that penetrated his voice. He so desperately wanted to help the obviously wounded man in front of him.

Peter heard the hiccup in Tony's voice and for as much as he hated it, he couldn't help his brain from doubting the lie of the man in front of him. This was so much different than anything Mysterio had used that he was having trouble fighting his instinct to distrust it.

Tony kept watching Peter's blank expression for any kind of reaction but he wasn't getting anything and he was starting to worry that there was something else wrong that he couldn't see. Still, he kept pressing, "We've all missed you, Pete. I…we…really want you to come home. Do you…uh…do you think you could let me take you out of here?"

Peter's flat eyes widened in a panic and he reacted viscerally to that suggestion. Pressing somehow closer to the wall, he hurried answered, "This is a trap. If I go with you, you're going to hurt me again."

Tony shook his head as obviously and vehemently as possible before he promised, "I won't hurt you, I swear." Then he begged, "It is me, Pete. It's dad. Please let me take you home."

That broke Peter. They had never used that before. That was something that Peter only sobbed about when he was alone. He felt the tears start to roll heavily down his cheeks as he whispered, "Dad?" Still, he curled tighter around himself.

Tony nodded but he didn't move, waiting for Peter to come to him. Instinctually knowing that Peter still needed him to wait. But he couldn't help the few tears that escaped when his son shrank away from him farther.

Peter wanted so badly to believe this was real and the longer this went on, the harder it was to quiet the suddenly strengthen voices in his head that told him this was Tony and that he somehow knew he was here. It wasn't real though, it was just another trick. He whimpered, "You're not real, please stop saying things like that. I'm sorry for whatever I did to you but please don't do this anymore."

Tony couldn't help it, he slid closer. It wasn't close enough to touch Peter but it was close enough to be within reach if he needed him to be. To avoid scaring him, Tony murmured, "Pete, it's me. Please just tell me what you need me to do to prove that to you."

Peter shook his head violently, alarmed by the closeness of the man in front of him but too confused and hurt to even attempt to move away. Then he said with more conviction, "No you're not real, Tony doesn't know where I am, even if he did care. No one knows where I am. I saw the press conference. You made me watch it. I know my family thinks I'm dead. I know you're not really Tony." He was talking louder than normal as he tried to scream over the suddenly outspoken voices in his head.

Tony cursed his instinct. Instead he reached out and laid his hand gently on his son's arm before he met his eyes and whispered, "We did think you were dead. We came after the people who we thought killed you. And…I…geezus Pete…I didn't expect to find you. But I'm real. I'm right here."

Peter felt the hand on his arm. No one, not even Mysterio's illusions touched him in anyway that wasn't painful. He glanced down at the hand before looking up into Tony's face. Those voices got even louder and he demanded, "Tell me something you couldn't know. If you're really him, tell me something only my dad could know."

Tony watched Peter's impossibly large eyes for a few moments because he needed something infallible. He coughed once before he said, "When you were in high school, you sold almost all your Star Wars collectables to buy a black dahlia necklace for MJ instead of just asking me for a little help." Tony scoffed a little when he remembered that and added, "I bought them all back like two weeks later and gave them to you for your seventeenth birthday."

That rusted box cracked just a little more as that memory spilled out to join the others. But he didn't say anything, just let the voice he remembered keep talking.

Once Tony said that, other things started to spill out, "You once lost your little brother at the museum and then for some reason decided to take him to the zoo with a tracking device. I bought you a shit heap of a car for your eighteenth birthday and it took us forever to put it back together." He reached back farther, desperation was a powerful motivator, "When I asked you to help with Cap, the first time I met you, May gave me some of her almond date loaf while we waited for you to come home." Tony finally saw a crack in the alternatively scared and flat expression and he couldn't help stop the encouragement that welled up at that, even if it was at the cost of tears. Tony swallowed them back before he said, "You're my son and I've missed you every day since they took you."

Peter listened with rapt attention as Tony continued to lay out his evidence without hesitation. As Tony talked, the inflections in his voice and his cadence were so close to what Peter had hidden away that he finally started to give in to those voices in his head. Then he said something that only Tony could know and those voices screamed at Peter that this was Tony and that he was safe. Finally safe. Peter looked down at the hand on his arm once more before he decided to trust this Tony. Again. Probably stupidly. But there was still something else he needed to know. Peter slowly uncurled a bit before he whispered, "Why didn't you come sooner?"

That hurt. Still, Tony couldn't leave him without an answer not when he was so fragile. He looked down at the floor before he guiltily said, "You were dead. I watched it. God, Pete, if I had known you were alive, I would have torn this world apart trying to find you. But I didn't even know to look for you."

Peter found himself nodding along to that admission. That seemed real and honestly, if this was them lying to him, he would never be able to pick out the truth again so he sent up a short prayer that this was the last time he would have to deal with this and he tentatively stood. His voice was quiet when he said, "I'd like to go home."

"Okay. Okay." Tony quickly agreed as he struggled to stand. Peter didn't seem to be in the right mindset to help so Tony levered himself up and stood in front of his son. He initially leaned forward to pull Peter into a hug before he remembered his son's fear so instead he was left holding his hands out to the sides before he awkwardly gestured to the door, "Let's go, Pete."

Peter's tears rolled freely down his cheeks, the last time he had tried to walk out of this room…But as he looked at the incredibly familiar man standing in front of him, he could only think about how much he missed that hand on his arm. That had been so real, so close to what he remembered. And he was so tired of being alone and not trusting anything. He took the risk and threw himself forward into Tony's arms.

Tony was caught off guard by the sudden movement and only just got his hands up around Peter's shoulders. As his hands closed tightly, he felt Peter start to sob. Tony didn't waste any time and pulled him in close, slipping his hand up into his hair and holding him tightly. If he had been able to pay attention to anything more than the living thing in his arms, he would have noticed the burning skin and the unceasing shivers, the clammy skin and bony structure even though the sweatshirt. Instead, Tony was focused on the tortured sobs and soft mumbling. Tony whispered, "I gotcha, kid. I'm right here, I gotcha." He pulled Peter as close as he could and tried desperately to hold the broken man together. He buried his head in Peter's shoulder before he realized Peter kept repeating, "It's not real. It's not real." Even as he wrapped his arms tight around Tony's back. Whatever they had done had taken its toll. In an effort to help, Tony repeated, "This is real" every time Peter told him it wasn't.

Abruptly, the sobs stopped and Peter pushed harshly away from Tony before he snapped, "Why are you even here? Did you think of a new use for me?"

The startling change threw Tony off and he couldn't figure out how to answer it, instead he stuttered, "What? What are you talking about Pete?"

Peter snarled accusingly, "You told me you would never stop looking for me, never let anything happen to me and then you left me here to die."

Tony threw open his arms, "I'm right here." Then he noticed something about the way Peter said that and he quickly added, "Pete, I don't give a shit what you choose to do. I don't care if you never put that suit back on again, as long as you're _alive._ You could walk away from all of this and I would still take care of you. You _know_ that. I don't know what they told you but you _know _that's the truth."

The confirmation of the complete opposite of Vulture's voice in his head broke the last of his resistance and Peter lurched forward again, "I know. I'm sorry but they just kept telling me…"

Tony cut him off with a quiet shush and pulled him closer again, slipping his hand back into his hair, "I can guess what they told you. But I'm here and I'm going to take you home and if you never want to be Spider-Man again, you don't have to." He pressed a kiss to the side of Peter's head. Then he said with complete conviction, "I love you, Peter. I'm sorry that it took me this long to get to you but I'm here and I'm going to take you home." When Peter started to sob harder into his shoulder, Tony murmured, "They _lied_ to you."

"I'm sorry…" Peter sobbed.

Tony looked up at the ceiling in an effort to control his tears before he murmured, "Please don't apologize, Pete. This one is on me."

Then the cough Peter had been trying to hold back broke free. He lost control into Tony's shoulder. He hacked until he was spent and Tony was mostly holding his weight. It was then that Tony noticed belatedly what he had missed. Tony carefully pulled just far enough away to lay his hand on Peter's forehead. Feeling the telling heat, he asked incredulously, "Are you sick, Pete?"

Peter nodded sadly, "For a while now. I don't know how long. They left me in the snow, I haven't really been able to shake it."

"Yah because you're exhausted." Tony murmured before he said a little louder, "Lets get you home." But Tony couldn't help it and tugged him in tight again.

Only to be yanked angrily back to the real world when Clint's worried voice tore through the comfort, "Tony!"

Immediately, Tony's head twisted toward the door for a few moments, the suggestive sounds of conflict already audible. His mind started to spin and after a moment he had an idea. Only a couple of seconds after that, Tony reluctantly pulled away from Peter and slammed two bracelets onto his wrists. He looked back at his son as the nanobots curled increasingly quickly around his hands and wrists, working their way up to a full suit.

Tony's voice was hurried when he laid his hands on Peter's cheeks and forced the hollow eyes to meet his. His gaze flicked across Peter's face sadly before he said, "You don't have to fight…I don't want you to fight. But the suit will give you a chance to get away if we can't stop them. If they get in here, you run, there's a quinjet outside the south wall." He waited for Peter's shell-shocked nod before his own helmet reformed and he called into his mic. "FRIDAY, you know his suit, do it now. Close as you can." Tony watched as the nanobots reformed into Peter's suit with Iron Man's red and gold coloring. Tony nodded absentmindedly and then he took off toward the door. He was determined to keep anyone from getting anywhere near his son.

* * *

**Hopefully that was okay :/ I think that was one of the earliest interactions I wrote for this story so I've changed it a few times and I'm hoping that it worked well and made sense with what's been set up! **

**I hope everyone has a nice day/night and stay creative!**

**\- Lily**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey everyone,**

**Thank you to everyone who favorited and followed, you guys are awesome! I also want to make sure to say ****thank you so much to:**

** \- the fantastic xsheepix, Thanks :) So I've written a few versions of this but I realized that I don't want to say to much in the author's note so I'm just going to say thank you for reviewing, you're awesome, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

** \- the phenomenal carajiggirl, I'm glad it was a pleasant update :) It's been really nice to have time to write! And kind of like above, I don't want to say too much more for right now so thank you for reviewing, you're wonderful, and I hope you like this chapter!**

**Well, that's all I have for right now so...**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

In the hallway, Peter heard the distinct sounds that always accompanied fighting but without tangible proof of what was going on, it was just miscellaneous sound. That was something Mysterio created in the background to make him think something more was happening. But then he heard Clint call out in pained frustration, trying to get Tony's attention and he was jolted into the present.

Peter hesitantly glanced down at his hands. He pressed them back a bit in surprise as he noticed the suit that wasn't his. He instinctually recognized it as Tony's; the red and gold pattern mimicked his suit but the colors weren't right. He shook his head as he continued piecing together what was happening. Peter turned his hands over in front of him a few times before he heard another angry yell. It was Tony's voice.

That sent another jolt through him.

Testing out the reality battering at his confusion, Peter sheepishly asked, "FRI…FRIDAY?"

"It's good to hear from you again, Peter."

Peter nearly wept when he heard that voice, it fit with the rest of what he was seeing. Confirming her presence, he hesitantly asked, "Can you tell me what's going on out there?"

"Boss and Clint are currently fighting seven men, two of them have the names Kraven and Sandman. I cannot find enough information on the others to provide identification."

Tony yelled out again only this time there was an undercurrent of pain. Peter reacted with his own panic, "What was that? What's happening?"

"It seems as though boss's suit is temporarily offline because of…something to do with particles?" For the first time, FRIDAY sounded confused.

Peter swallowed hard and darted forward, he had chosen to trust this Tony, he couldn't let anything happen to him. But a few steps before the threshold, he paused at FRIDAY's concerned voice, "Peter, you should refrain from fighting, I'm noting some severe injuries that could be exacerbated by…"

He quickly cut her off and choked out, "It's okay, FRI. I'm good." Steeling his resolve, he took the last few steps to the doorway but when he finally saw the fight his mouth went dry and he started to sweat as panic threatened to freeze him at the entrance. Then he watched Sandman throw Tony back and Peter felt his chest tighten in a wholly different type of fear. He lunged forward, slamming his fist into the face of a man who was running in to help. The man dropped hard, out cold. Peter turned his attention back to the fight and yelled, "Electricity! He hates electricity."

Clint shot a surprised glance in his direction, but quickly relayed the information, "Thor, Nat, get down here!" He flipped his bo up and blocked a blow from Kraven before spinning away from the laughing hunter.

Tony threw up a shield just in time to block Sandman's next attack and paused just long enough to yell at Peter, "What're you doing out here?!" The alarm was clear in his voice but his attention was quickly diverted when the sand started to expand over his defense. Tony quickly electrified the shield and kicked back away from the man, putting himself immediately in front of Peter. Tony chastised his son, "I told you to hide."

Peter dug into that rusted box and tried to find a little of himself, tried to put up a front. His voice wavered but he managed to argue, "No you told me to get to the quinjet if anything happened." He held up his hands and pressed his fingers into the bottom of his palms before he said, "No webs. I can't quickly go anywhere so I figured I would help." His voice shook as he said it and he was glad for the mask but still he didn't back down.

Then Tony disappeared, falling forward with an annoyed grunt as Sandman managed to get his arm around Tony's leg and yank. Tony reacted slower than he normally would have but quickly escaped and planted himself in front of Peter, the argument tabled for the time being.

Unable to drag Peter back into the room, Tony resigned himself to staying distinctly aware of where his son was throughout the fight. He was careful to keep himself between Peter and the worst of the fighting. That left Peter to deal with the multiplying muscle while the others took on Sandman and Kraven. The tables tipped decidedly in the Avenger's favor when Steve, Natasha, Thor, and Nebula bound down the hallway. There was a moment of confusion when they saw the red and gold clad spider fighting with Clint and Tony but it didn't last.

Unfortunately, the arrival of the Avengers preceded the arrival of Doc Ock, who stomped his way into the fight, backing up Kraven and Sandman even as the rest of the generic muscle was finally exhausted. The multi-armed doctor battered into the fray, separating the Avengers for a moment and throwing the situation into even more disarray. It took the Avengers a moment to adjust but once they did, they pressed the attack.

Tony drove forward and forced Kraven back after he had gotten a little too close to where Peter was helping Thor and Natasha with Sandman. Tony's attention was diverted for just long enough for one of Doc Ock's arms to snake behind him and clamp down on Peter's arm. Doc Ock wrenched Peter forward, dragging him away from the others. The snap of bone was audible a brief moment before Peter screamed and tried harder to pry the claw off his arm.

"Peter!" Tony shrieked as he sent two blasts forward, knocking Kraven back before he materialized a blade and drove it through the hunter's stomach. Withdrawing the blade quickly, Tony spun toward Doc Ock. Swinging the blade up, he brought it down on the connecting snake of the arm. It severed enough of the connections to cause the bottom of the claw to drop open, dead. Peter fell out of its grasp.

Peter tried to land on his feet but his legs crumpled and he couldn't do more than scramble backward with one hand. He hurt so badly. His mind started to spin and he knew whatever that initial burst was – adrenaline, vengeance, fear – it was wearing off. Peter curled tight over his newest injury as he tried to catch his breath.

Tony barreled through Doc Ock's defense of spinning arms and planted himself in front of Peter. As Tony landed, he snarled, "Stay away from him."

Doc Ock just sneered back and growled, "You're the reason he stole my designs. What'd you promise him? What pittance did you give?"

Hearing the baiting, Peter tried desperately to get his hands under him because he needed to get up, he needed to help. But every time he tried, the grinding bone in his arm slipped a little more and he didn't have the strength to push himself upright with just one arm. Instead, he just watched as Tony stood between him and his enemies.

Tony didn't acknowledge the lies, just prepared for whatever attack was coming. He stepped forward threateningly, making himself into the larger target, and refusing to move too far from in front of Peter. The three live arms snaked and twisted threateningly at Doc Ock's side.

On an unspoken cue, they lurched forward.

Tony bristled, the suit mimicking his anger, and prepared for the impact before two blurs intervened.

Nebula slid under the first claw before a half a step later Steve caught it. Jumping back to her feet, Nebula slammed her blade into the second claw. The third turned its attack toward the two assailants before a violent, metallic rent tore through the hallway as Steve snapped the claw in two, rendering the arm as useless as the one Tony had damaged. Doc Ock screamed in pain as the appendage was ruined. Nebula turned her blade free from the claw that had closed around it before she surged forward, the dangerous sword slashing at the man behind the claws.

Tony was thankful for the interruption and spun toward Peter. He reached down and helped Peter to his feet, hating the fact that he had to steady him when he wavered. Tony's fear was obvious, "Now's the time to hide, you can't keep fighting."

Peter rejected the idea outright, it would mean he had to go back in that room. He somehow managed to keep most of the alarm out of his voice when he offered a curt, "No."

Tony instinctually understood and nearly kicked himself before he ground out, "Fine, but stay back, _please_." He turned back to the dying fight in front of him, continuing to split his attention the best he could.

Nebula slashed Doc Ock twice before the remaining arms clamped down on her shoulder and tossed her back. Still, the attack caused him to stumble, which gave Steve a chance to catch another claw. He wrestled it closed before he wrenched it away too. Then Nebula was back in the thick of it and destroyed the fourth arm.

Doc Ock screamed again, like someone had severed his actual arms.

While the others were taking care of Doc Ock and Sandman, Peter's spider sense screamed at him and, for the first time since he had been captured, it focused. Turning slightly, he realized Kraven was back on his feet, a feral smile on his face even while he clutched his hand to the deep wound on his side. Peter watched as his eyes locked on Tony, who was helping to wrestle the other two into submission. Reading the intention, Peter dove at his former tormentor.

He let the anger build in his gut, pushing the pain to the fringes as he tackled Kraven to the ground. For once, he got the drop on the hunter. And he used it. He slammed his fists into the man's suddenly unprotected stomach and face.

Kraven got in a few punches and each one shot jarring pain through Peter's body, but he couldn't stop, there was more at stake here than his pain. He forced everything else to fall away and he slammed his fist into Kraven's face twice more before the man finally went limp. In anger, Peter threw one more punch and then fell forward over the unconscious man, barely catching himself with his right arm as he breathed heavily. Once he felt like he could, he shakily stood and stumbled toward the wall.

He was done.

With Doc Ock and Kraven handled, Natasha and Thor finished wrestling Sandman into submission. Once he was beaten back into a small enough size, Storm Breaker had enough electrical potential to keep him contained.

As the din of the fight faded, the Avengers were left staring at each other before, in some unspoken agreement, all eyes slowly turned to Peter. He was still panting against the wall but when he realized everyone was staring at him, he turned hesitantly. The eyes on the suit widened as Peter's eyes flicked between them before finally landing on Tony.

And then suddenly, everything caught up with him. The pain started in his chest and radiated out from there. The heat of that agony flared at various points across his body, raging through every nerve ending and intensifying the pounding in his head. Then it dropped back down again into his chest and his lungs seized.

Peter was now intensely cognizant of the eyes on him and he tried to suck in a breath only to fail to pull anything into his lungs. His eyes went wide and he collapsed to his knees. Belatedly, he realized he had given everything he had left. He fell forward onto his arms, the jarring pain that shot up his broken arm was just a wave in a roiling sea. He heaved as he tried desperately to breathe because his mind swam and even when the mask finally pulled back, he continued to wheeze. Peter pressed a hand to his chest but he just couldn't catch his breath.

Then Tony was back in front of him. He was crouched low, as he hurriedly tried to get his attention, "Pete!" Tony laid his hands on the sides of Peter's face and tried again, "Peter! Look at me!"

Everything around him sounded like it was underwater but Peter understood that command and somehow pulled up his gaze. Unfortunately, air didn't come with it.

Tony panicked and asked, "What's wrong with him, FRIDAY?"

"He is badly injured but this seems to be a panic attack, boss."

Tony's heart clenched at the first part of her assessment but the second part he could deal with. He ordered, "Retract the suits." Then he risked a look up at the others, ordering, "Get them out of here." He turned his gaze fully back to his hyperventilating son. His voice was calm when he promised, "I'm right here, I'm here with you. You need to breathe, Peter."

As Tony begged, the others quickly started to drag their attackers into the room they had held Peter in for so long.

Peter wanted to listen but he couldn't. His eyes fluttered and tears pricked at the corners but he was losing the fight. Then, without Peter realizing how, Tony was sitting behind him, pulling him close against his chest as he murmured, "It's okay. Close your eyes, Pete. It's alright, you just need to slow down." As he wrapped his arms tightly around Peter, Tony could feel him shaking violently and he could feel the desperation welling up in his own chest. He had to help. Now. Tony started to breathe with exaggerated inhales and exhales. Then after a few breaths he whispered, "Breathe in." Tony held his breath, before he exhaled, "Breathe out." He continued to repeat that until Peter's breathing finally started to follow the same pattern, if at a concerning shallowness. Finally, Peter slumped back into Tony's arms. Tony closed his eyes in relief for a few moments before he unconsciously murmured, "I gotcha, kid. I promise." Tony wrapped his arms tight around his shivering son and held him until he had calmed down enough to stop wheezing.

Appreciating the rush of oxygen that came with breathing normally, Peter pressed his head tight into Tony's shoulder but he still couldn't shake the feeling of a lie and he murmured, "I can't tell if any of this is real."

Tony squeezed his eyes closed and whispered, "It is. I promise."

Peter dug his head in a little tighter and sheepishly whispered, "You've said that before."

Tony's eyes popped open and his voice was higher than he intended when he asked in disbelief, "What?" He listened hard for the answer even as the implications caused his mind to spin.

Peter's voice was just a breath above a whisper when he explained, "They've been you before. They've been Steve before too. They've given me a chance to escape and when I tried, they hurt me." Peter swallowed hard before he admitted, "I can't help but think that's still going to happen."

Tony tightened his arms a bit more as the anger surged through his core. He was going to kill them. Still he needed to focus. He swallowed hard and turned his attention back to Peter, before he snarled, "They'd have to get through me." But when Peter just nodded into his shoulder, Tony was horrified by the lack of trust. He pressed, "That was them, okay? You saw Thor, Nebula, Mantis. There's no way they knew who they are. _This_ is real."

Peter nodded into Tony's shoulder again but didn't get a chance to say anything else before he started to cough.

Tony held him until it passed and once it did, he massaged the back of Peter's neck, trying to help him relax. It gave Peter a brief respite before the others gathered silently in the hallway. The door to the room was shut and the heavy bar laid across it, they would deal with the bad guys once Peter was safely in the jet. Tony saw the movements from his curled position and when he finally looked up, his face was a mask of pain warring with fury but he managed to keep his voice even when he spoke, "We need to go."

No one said anything, they just nodded.

Tony looked back at Peter and everything, including his voice, softened, "Can you walk?"

Peter turned his head more fully into Tony's shoulder before he shook it.

"It's okay, Pete. That's okay." Tony flicked his gaze up toward Steve and fixed him with a desperate look. Tony couldn't help but thank god when Steve understood what he needed. The man leaned down and helped pull him and Peter upright. Peter tucked his arm close into his stomach as he leaned heavily into Tony's chest. There was a moment of confusion as Steve tried to figure out the best way to help carry the wounded man without actually picking him up. He settled on wrapping his arm tightly around Peter, his hand under Peter's armpit while Tony pulled Peter's right arm up and over his own shoulders. Together the two started to move in careful unison, giving Peter the ability to move with them. And it gave him a chance to keep resting against Tony's chest.

Thor and Clint stayed behind to guard the room while the others escorted the three up to the quinjet.

It was a slow process but they finally made it. Tony and Steve got Peter settled into one of the cots. While Tony knelt down in front of him, Steve dug a few heavy blankets out of the overhead compartment. Without warning Peter leaned forward and his head fell onto Tony's shoulder. Tony panicked briefly before he realized what Peter wanted. He wrapped his arms tightly around his son, tucking him close to his chest and balancing himself on his heels the best he could. His leg started to throb almost immediately but he could deal with that later. Tony pulled away from Peter just long enough to tuck the blankets in around his chest and then he slid back under the drooping head and wrapped him back up. Shielding him.

Once Tony and Peter were situated, the others went to gather the abusers, they would be coming back to the Compound. Nebula and Natasha stayed as guards at the entrance to the jet and ensured no one untoward got inside.

After everything was in motion and Peter was settled, Tony quietly ordered, "FRIDAY, tell MJ to meet us in the hanger."

There was a pregnant pause before FRIDAY returned, "She's asking why boss."

Tony thought about it for a long moment before he whispered, "Just tell her we were wrong. That he's alive and we're bringing him home."

It took another ten minutes to get all the bad guys loaded on the quinjet.

* * *

Michelle and May waited silently in the hanger.

Michelle had gotten the message when she was waiting for news of the raid. At first she had thought she had misunderstood the message and she asked FRIDAY to repeat it twice before she decided Tony wouldn't send a message like that unless it was literal. So after a few minutes of stunned paralysis, she tore through the floor until she found May and Pepper. May had immediately jumped to her feet but Pepper was a little unsure of how Morgan would take the news so she was decided to wait and stay with him while May and Michelle confirmed their interpretation of Tony's message.

When the quinjet finally landed, May grabbed ahold of Michelle's hand, unable to handle waiting on her own. They watched with bated breath as the ramp open. Once it did, Michelle darted forward. She would feel guilty about leaving May behind later but she couldn't wait. Her feet pounded up the metal ramp, drawing the attention of everyone but her gaze was locked on Peter, or at least the form she assumed was Peter. He was really just a bundle of heavy blankets on one of the medical cots. But it was resting bodily against Tony, who was crouched with his arms wrapped tightly around said bundle. That level of desperation could only be for one reason.

Without acknowledging anyone else, she dropped to her knees next to Tony and in front of Peter. At her hasty movement, Peter twisted slightly, the blankets falling away from around his shoulders and he fixed her with a flat gaze. Michelle whispered, "Peter?" And once she said that, there was a vague flicker of recognition behind his eyes before he murmured, "MJ?" His voice was hoarse and his eyes teared up but instead of saying anything else, he abruptly tucked his head back into the crook of Tony's neck.

Michelle's tears fell and she gently climbed on the cot next to him, laying her hand on his back and trying to grab his attention back. But he didn't react again and Michelle looked with horror at Tony before her gaze flicked up to May standing behind him. Her voice was quiet when she asked Tony, "What's wrong? Why isn't he saying anything?"

But it was Natasha who answered. She took up a seat next to Michelle and gently put her arm around the younger woman's shoulders, tugging her away from Peter. It took some persuading but Michelle finally let her arm drop and faced Natasha. The spy's voice was soft when she whispered, "He's confused, MJ. From what we know, a lot of this seems like a lie and he's too hurt to keep it straight. He's not even okay with the rest of us, I think only Tony seems real right now."

Michelle's mind spun at that information and she twisted to look at the blanket heap again before she quietly asked, "What happened?"

Natasha turned up her nose before she shrugged and admitted, "We don't totally know. Not really." She tossed her chin toward Tony before she explained, "I think Tony has some idea but he's been understandably distracted and he hasn't said anything yet."

Michelle nodded along before she asked, "Should he be sitting like that?"

The sad expression was back on Natasha's face when she answered softly, "He's really banged up, MJ, I think that's about the only way that's comfortable for him."

Michelle frowned but couldn't tear her attention away from the two. It was only then that she caught it as Tony carefully shifted one foot and then the other without moving Peter. Her frown deepened when she realized something else and asked, "Has Tony been sitting like that the entire time?"

Natasha nodded before adding warily, "Why?"

"No reason," Michelle distractedly answered.

Natasha didn't press her because the medical staff arrived.

They gently pulled Tony away but Peter when reacted badly, they gave him something to knock him out. Once he was calmed, the team left without pretense and the others followed. At least everyone but Michelle, who was still watching Tony carefully, waiting for him to get up and follow. When he didn't, she stepped close and knelt next to him. Her voice was quiet when she asked, "You can't get up, can you?"

Tony dropped his chin to his chest and mumbled, "No..."

"Okay," Michelle murmured in return, "okay, I'm going to help you." She shifted her weight to crouch in front of him, took his hands and stood, pulling him up with everything she had.

His knee cracked and popped painfully as she levered him upright and he fell slightly forward into her shoulders as she threw her arms up to catch him. He mumbled his apologies into her collarbone as he clutched his arms tightly. The muscles in his bad leg cramped and spasmed as he tried to get a handle on the pain. He groaned as a wave of pain shot through him and he couldn't help it as he leaned more against the slight woman somehow holding him upright.

Michelle heard him apologizing and it broke her heart. She quietly assured him, "You don't have to apologize. I'm helping because I want to." She held him tightly until his leg woke up or stopped twitching, whatever it were doing.

After a few minutes, Tony was finally able to get enough of a handle on the pain that he could stand upright on his own. He pushed back a bit from her but left his hands on her shoulders to steady himself before he looked her in the eyes and whispered, "Thank you."

Michelle didn't say anything, just nodded as her gaze flicked across his. She wanted to make sure he was mostly okay. He looked alright but there was an undercurrent of pain there and she wasn't sure if it was because of Peter or because of a physical injury. Huffing her inability to tell exactly what was wrong, she finally asked, "Are you good?"

Tony shook his head but his answer contradicted him, "Yah…" And he realized it, amending, "No…" He huffed in frustration, "I don't know."

Michelle was taken aback at his indecisiveness and asked, "Why?"

Tony fixed her with a skeptical look and then he answered bluntly, "I just found out Peter was alive and we left in a pit for a month. Am I supposed to be okay?" He knew it was unfair, that she had to have been asking about him physically but at the same time, he couldn't help it.

"Right." Michelle murmured, unoffended by his blunt response. Then she asked the dumbest question she had in a while, "Is he okay?"

"No." Tony answered honestly, "And it's going to take a while to get Peter back." He didn't have the strength to sugar-coat anything, it wasn't worth it anyway, and in the long run, it wouldn't help his son, so he just laid it out.

Michelle swallowed hard, "What happened?" She was determined to help and that meant she needed to know what happened.

"I don't know completely." Tony answered honestly, before he gestured to the back of the jet where five of the Six were being held, "But we'll find out." Then he realized he knew at least a little more than her and elaborated, "I do know he thought we had both forgotten about him or hated him. Either way, I have a feeling he saw us a few times while he was there but never in a positive light."

"Mysterio?" Michelle murmured, her brain already spinning at the implications.

"Had to be." Tony grumbled, "We dealt with him but those are not easy images to shake."

Michelle groaned her vexation at the vagueness and because of her impatience. She wanted to see Peter. Without prompting, she slipped under Tony's arm and helped him hobble out of the quinjet. He seemed to understand what she was doing because he didn't question it and didn't say anything else to her. As they exited, they saw some of the people that operated as security at the Compound. Tony paused for a moment, throwing his free hand over his shoulder and giving them instructions for the villains confined in the jet. Then he gave them the combination for the cage.

Once that was done, Tony and Michelle moved to the waiting room outside the medbay.

No one batted an eye at Michelle's aid and simply responded when Tony asked, "What'd they say?"

Steve frowned sadly and quickly answered, "They haven't yet."

Both Michelle and Tony huffed their frustration before Michelle helped Tony into a chair. She sat down between him and May but she pretended not to notice the way Tony's hands were shaking.

* * *

**Okay so that's why I didn't really want to say too much above! **

**I hope the chapter worked, I actually wrote a few versions of this because I wasn't sure if I wanted a fight or if I just wanted them to just get Peter out but ultimately I liked the fight better. Feel free to let me know what you thought!**

**I hope you have a wonderful day/night and stay creative!**

**-Lily**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey everyone,**

**Sorry for the abnormally long time between updates but for those of you who waited, thanks :) I have to admit, this chapter has definitely been one of the hardest ones I've written in a long time. I'm not sure why but I just could not get to the right reactions and interactions for this chapter. I wrote multiple interactions between a bunch of different characters that just didn't feel right and I think I've ended it about three different ways. That being said, I'm happy with what I ended up with so I hope you like it too!**

**Also, just as a disclaimer, this chapter does have some medical stuff in it, but I do not work in a medical field. Everything in here is from google searches attempting to piece together academic information from websites who wouldn't let me read the whole article unless I paid them money. Which is my roundabout way of saying, if anything is terribly wrong, I'm so sorry but please don't flame me.**

**Thanks to those of you who followed and favorited the story, I think I say this every time but it always means a lot so it's worth typing. **

**I also want to give a huge shout out to the ****fantastically awesome carajiggirl, I'm glad you enjoyed the fight! And I think this chapter will help with those questions. Hopefully, you like it! And thank you, as always, for reviewing :)**

**Alright, that's all I have for now so without further ado,**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

The hours dragged by as the large group waited in almost complete silence broken only by shifting armor or involuntary coughs. And while each could have easily gone elsewhere, to change or stew, there had been a collective agreement not to leave Tony, Michelle, and May alone. So whether they realized it or not, all were individually trying to piece together the events that had led here.

Unfortunately, the continued confusion was incontrovertible.

The emotions in the room crashed over everyone in waves. Guilt. Sorrow. Vicious anger. Vengeance. All blended with shimmers of hope that it wasn't as bad as they all were afraid it was. Unfortunately, all their half-theories were subverted by the turmoil of the last month, and no one was able to voice the exact implications as the time continued to slip away and the hanging pall became increasingly onerous.

Oblivious to the torment of the rest of the room, Tony's world revolved around the guilt building incrementally in his chest, physically crushing him farther into his chair. A small part of him was glad these were designed to hold the Hulk because, without that, the weight of his failure surely would have broken the furniture. He was almost impressed it hadn't. It was in the middle of the nth iteration of his obvious blundering that someone spoke. It took him far too long to realize who it was.

Clint finally voiced the question each had come back to at some point, "So…how the hell did we end up here?" There was a clip of fear in his voice that was impossible to hide.

Only a short exhalation from the collected group answered him.

Clint kept going, "I mean seriously, we buried him." He tried to meet anyone's eye but when no one acknowledged his concerns, his nervousness took more distinct control and he pushed just a little harder, "How'd they do that?"

Natasha didn't look up from where she was sitting next to Steve but her voice held a dangerous edge as she promised, "I'm planning on asking them that when we know how Peter is doing." She pressed her hand to her forehead for a few collecting moments before she dragged it free and dropped it back into her lap. She met Clint's gaze, understanding the context of his fear but knowing there wasn't anything they could do about it right now. Instead, she shifted her attention to Tony and quietly asked, "What happened?"

Tony's stomach dropped like a rock and his pleading gaze met hers. He wasn't sure he wanted to talk about that with anyone, let alone the entire group but then he realized that if Peter questioned any one of them, they needed to know how to respond. He swallowed his fear. His voice was scratchy, oddly disused when he explained, "He thought we were them. He backed up, tried to hide, anything he could do to get away from me and Clint. Then he begged us to leave..." Tony relayed the rest of the story as dispassionately as he could.

It didn't work.

As he finished, Tony choked, "Look." He took a deep breath and continued, "I...I don't know a lot about what they did...I know they messed with him, made him think we were there to save him and then hurt him when he tried to escape. They told him we didn't care about him..." He swallowed hard at the memory - _Why didn't you come sooner? _\- his eyes flicked to the floor, as he continued, "But that has to just be some of it and I don't know what else happened..." He looked up to meet each person's eyes as his voice became deadly serious, "What I do know is that he somehow still remembers who he is. It's what's happening now that confuses him, so whatever you do, don't react if he questions who you are. Don't get mad or frustrated, just do what he asks. Come up with some stories, make sure to tell him something personal, something the people who held him couldn't know."

As Tony finished, multiple gazes that had been locked on him started to drop away as the already tense situation was reframed into something infinitely more threatening because of its intimacy.

* * *

They maintained that silence until the rubber seal at the bottom of the door scraped across the linoleum floor. Fry was looking at the clipboard in her hands as she stepped into the waiting room but the movement drew everyone's intense attention and scrutiny. That attention became more acute when she appeared more flustered than normal as wisps of hair escaped the tight bun she so often maintained.

Tony was the first to find his voice, "How is he?" He couldn't bring himself to ask if Peter was still alive.

Fry took a deep breath. She had been standing behind the door for the better part of five minutes, trying to figure out how she was going to explain what they needed to know. Still, no matter how she worked through it, she hadn't come up with anything to make the reality any easier. She just tried to keep her voice even, "He's alive but in critical condition. And I do have to warn you..." She paused and swallowed hard before she finished, "there's a chance he won't make it through the next few days."

Immediately the room bristled as multiple voices involuntarily sounded at her assessment. The rejections were incoherent voices until Steve's steady tone cut through the discord, "He was talking to Tony on the jet. He fought _with_ us."

Fry just held up her hand and started to talk over the enraged outburst, "The best I can say..." Her voice fell when the group quieted as she explained, "is that it was adrenaline because given what I've seen, he shouldn't have been able to do that." She paused, suddenly very nervous. But she had their undivided attention so she pressed forward, "Whatever they did it was severe and it was sustained. He has a litany of healed and partially healed fractures as well as multiple broken bones, including his forearm, hand, and foot. His rib cage has taken significant damage, which most likely resulted in the moderate myocardial contusion we're seeing. He has a severe concussion, multiple internal injuries: a ruptured spleen, bruised kidneys, inflamed intestines, among other things…"

She sighed before she explained the severity, "If it was just two, or even three, of these, he would have been able to heal but the combination…"

Tony interrupted with an acidic bite, "He's sick too."

Fry nodded sadly before she added softly, "With pneumonia, yes." She frowned as the tension in the room somehow ratcheted up further, "Thankfully, it's not very advanced but I will admit, seeing him with it is…concerning." Fry swallowed hard as she got to the last part of the assessment, "Unfortunately, that's not the worst of it. He's malnourished and dehydrated and it's affecting his ability to heal as quickly as he normally does."

The heroes in front of her bristled in farther confusion.

Fry gripped her hands harder around the clipboard before she explained, "I think they gave him some food but there is no way it was enough to keep up with his metabolism because he's showing the same signs of malnutrition as someone who has been without for much longer." She took in the obvious anger mounting in the room. Then to preempt the next question, she summarized, "The culmination of all this is why we're keeping him sedated. We need to clear the fluid out of his lungs, get his fever under control, and try to get him some nutrients before we give him a chance to wake up."

"How long?" Michelle spoke up. She gripped May's hand a little tighter as she intentionally ignored the earlier assessment.

Unfortunately, that was the question Fry had been dreading because she couldn't guarantee...anything.

"I'm not sure..." She wracked her brain for an answer and then blurted out, "With everything that's happened to him, all the punishment his body has taken...the best we can do is monitor him. We've fixed everything we could but he's still significantly underweight and that's putting a strain on already damaged organs. He's just...not been able to heal."

Tony quickly jumped in, "What do we do?"

Fry appreciated the chance at positivity, "Exactly what we are doing. We've got him on intravenous feeding and we're going to keep him out to make sure he's not put under any more unintentional strain." She paused and looked pointedly at Tony, "I saw him when they moved you earlier, anything we can do to avoid that level of stress will help. It's also why you need to be with him as often as possible, even when he's not awake."

Tony nodded nervously, concerned and guilty.

Fry felt the need to prove they were fighting but the authority in her voice was undercut by her concerns, "On the plus side, if we can get his healing factor functioning, he has a significantly better chance. I think treating the sickness aggressively and ensuring nutrients will help more than we're able to estimate." She couldn't avoid the optimism because this was Peter.

It was Peter.

He always bounced back, he always made it. As she took in the mixed expressions around her, she felt her fears bubble to the surface and without thought, she editorialized, "I can tell you whoever did this deserves far worse than whatever you did to them."

Tony visibly reacted to that, sitting up a little higher in his seat.

Fry's eyes widened as she realized what she just said. She rushed to cover it, "I apologize. I shouldn't have said that it wasn't professional."

Tony's face fell sympathetically as he agreed vehemently, "You're right though." Then he looked at Steve and Rhodey, sniping, "We were going to do worse…" But he didn't finish the thought, the argument wasn't worth the energy. Instead, his voice was softer when he assured Fry, "It's fine."

May looked between Tony and the others. She had seen them infuriated and incensed before but this was a different level and she shivered at the heavy tension and palpable fury rolling through the room. She understood it, felt it herself, but she also felt bad for the woman in front of them. She hadn't done anything wrong but right now that fury was directed toward her. And even if it was meant for others, it made for an uncomfortable position. May tried to defuse some of the tension and asked, "Can the rest of us see him too?"

Fry coughed a bit to cover her further embarrassment before she answered, "Of course. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply otherwise."

* * *

Tony felt the crushing weight increase tenfold as he stepped into the room.

Peter wasn't a big person but he was always so full of life that to see him utterly unmoving in the bed was soul-crushing. His cheekbones were painfully obvious in the pale yellow light of the room, so were the bruises under his eyes and across his face. The mask he wore, presumably to help with his breathing, looked too big. And he was buried under heavy blankets that did nothing to allay Tony's knowledge of what was hidden. It made him sick. Still, Tony had every intention of doing exactly what Fry said so he dropped heavily into the chair next to the bed. He stared for a few moments before he swallowed his fear and gently scooped up the hand peeking out from under the blanket. When the cold fingers didn't close around his, he dropped his head in pronounced sorrow. He carefully leaned forward and whispered, "This is real. It's all real, Pete. You have to fight. Just one more time, you have to fight."

May and Michelle took up seats on the other side of the bed. May took Peter's other hand and carefully leaned forward to press a kiss to the side of his head. Michelle pillowed her head in her arms as close to him as she could get.

None of them were going to leave.

The others watched as May, Michelle, and Tony take up their seats but before they followed, Steve stopped them. He kept his voice low even though he knew no one in the room would be listening, "We're going to have to work in shifts. If Tony needs to stay here, May and MJ will too, so we're going to have to make sure they eat and have comfortable clothes...everything. Anything they need. That's on us."

Everyone nodded in agreement but no one said anything, simply waiting for the next order. Steve quickly laid out what had to happen soon, "Pepper needs to know what's going on if she doesn't already. So does Happy. We need to get some food and Tony's going to need a change of clothes."

Rhodey quietly volunteered, "I'll go talk to Pepper and Happy. And see what I can do about getting Tony something to change in to." Once he had said that, Steve quickly filled in the rest, "Bucky and I'll put in a call for some pizzas. It'll be easy enough for dinner. We'll just get the normal order."

It didn't take long to decided on a few more shifts and then the rest of the Avengers slipped into the room.

* * *

Michelle was laying with her head pillowed over hers and Peter's hands. Tony had left a bit ago to talk to Morgan and she had taken the chance to...touch him. It was a surreal feeling. He felt so...normal. If a little cold. When she realized that, she gripped his hand a little tighter before tucking them both under the blanket. It was such a normal solution. Such a simple thing that still felt so much like a fantasy.

And as all fantasies do, she kept expecting it to end.

Because it wasn't like she hadn't had this experience already. A thousand times in her tantalizingly realistic dreams of being with him again. In them, she didn't have to wake up alone. Didn't have to feel left behind. Didn't have to comfort those who had also lost and were more comfortable sharing their pain than she was.

But those dreams made her real world into a waking nightmare that left her nearly empty. Exhausted. Drained. Far more devoid than she had expected.

And now, staring at him in her waking world, she was terrified to close her eyes. If she did she might wake up and a badly injured Peter was better than a dead one. She fought her exhaustion.

Instead, she watched him. She wanted to talk to him, tell him everything that had happened the last month but...there were others in the room. So, she twisted her ring nervously with a few fingers as she clutched his hand as if her life depended on it. The broken image in front of her was horrifying but he was still breathing and that meant there was still a chance. And she had learned a long time ago that Peter was nothing if not dependable.

Michelle lost herself in that truth, concentrating on that positive reality.

But at some point, Michelle's exhaustion caught up to her because the next thing she knew, she could smell...pizza? She turned slightly in her chair to catch Rhodey and a few others she had only heard about - a blue machine woman and a small raccoon - step into the room with the fragrant food in hand. Steve and Bucky followed behind with a few more pies, plates, and napkins. Michelle rubbed her eyes with her free hand, as she took in the still strange reality of the Avengers. But she didn't even attempt to move her other hand, it was still keeping Peter's warm under the blanket.

As she blinked her eyes a few more times, she saw Tony step into the room. He looked as tired as she felt and there was a sorrow in his posture that she swore wasn't there when he left.

Michelle's heart sank when she saw him because it meant she was going to have to move. And that was the last thing she wanted to do. But she had heard the doctor. She knew how fragile Peter's health was and she wasn't about to risk that for her selfish reasons. Squeezing Peter's hand carefully, Michelle stood and lightly kissed his cheek. She murmured, "I love you. Please wake up." Then with a quiet sob, she slowly pulled her hand away.

More than likely it was her imagination but she still froze when, for a brief moment, it felt like Peter tightened his hand around hers.

Michelle's attention whipped back to him and watched him for a more overt reaction, but nothing happened. Instead, she jumped slightly when Tony's hand lightly fell onto her shoulder. Michelle took a deep breath and hung her head but started to pull her hand away again so Tony could sit down. His quiet voice stopped her, "I'll get you something to eat. Stay with him for a bit longer."

Michelle didn't look up at him, just whispered, "But Fry said..."

Tony interrupted her, his voice a soothing tone she had heard before, usually when Morgan was upset or Peter had a nightmare she couldn't wake him up from, "She said I have to be with him. Nothing else. I'll sit next to you." He shrugged and added, "I need two hands to eat pizza anyway. I was a little too removed when I was younger but you've got that born and bred New York-style fold you can do."

The collected Avengers sat that way until a few of them started to nod off, which wasn't long after they had eaten because exhaustion drove them to sleep, not any real circadian rhythm. Once that happened, the extended family decided to excuse themselves to give the small family a chance to just be together. That left Michelle, Tony, and May in the room and all three got as comfortable as they could while still staying close to Peter.

It wasn't comfortable but they were exhausted and passed out, the same as the others.

Unfortunately, that pattern of a quiet vigil only held for another day.

* * *

Tony was yanked out of sleep by rough hands on his shoulders.

In his exhausted state, he resisted. Unconsciously, he reached toward Peter, clutching blindly for his hand and fighting trying to stay in contact with him. But it didn't last as Tony's uncoordinated attempts made it easy for him to be pulled away. Once he was on his feet, he was able to shake himself out of his semi-asleep state. He saw medical professionals in front of him and Michelle standing behind him, but it took him a second to catch the uneven pulses of the heart rate monitor.

Everything slowed into the space of a few rapid heartbeats as Tony's brain caught up to what was going on. He took a few deep breaths and then the cacophony of noise hit him hard.

Something was wrong.

Tony involuntarily stepped forward and called out to anyone standing near him, "What's wrong? What's going on?" When he didn't get a response, he tried again, a little louder, "What's wrong with him?" His voice was lost on the concentration of medical professionals trying to save a life. Tony had the overwhelmingly stupid urge to grab someone and make them tell him what was going on but he squashed it. Instead, he forced his arms to the side.

He watched, horrified, as Fry called out orders smattered with acronyms that Tony didn't understand even as he caught more of what was going on by context. Still, he couldn't follow most of the frantic, almost random movements of the medical professionals. So he tried to see Peter's face. He was rewarded with a few brief glimpses but those only lasted for a moment before someone stepped in front of him.

Tony twisted listlessly and caught Michelle, pressed up against the chairs near the door, out of the corner of his eye. Realizing he was in the way where he was, he stepped toward her. As he moved, something on the bed caught his attention and he took the last few steps backward, bumping into Michelle accidentally. In response, she wrapped her arms around his waist. Surprised, Tony looked down but realized she wasn't watching him and the action must have been a reflex. Still, she didn't immediately let go so Tony threw his arms around her shoulders and they watched the horrible event play out.

It felt like an eternity, but eventually, it ended.

As the rest of the medical professionals stepped out of the room, Tony's thin voice called out, "What happened?"

Fry stopped in front of them and quietly explained the cause of the alarm, "Cardiac arrhythmia." Fry looked up at him with exhausted eyes before she continued, "It's been an issue since he came in but we've been monitoring it in case it got worse. It did and he crashed."

Michelle stepped away from Tony on shaking legs even as she held her shoulders back. Her voice wavered as she tried to speak with confidence, "But he's been getting better."

Fry chewed her lip for a moment before she explained, "It's strange to think about but he still is getting better. The problem is this can happen when nutrients are reintroduced to a nutrient-deficient system. His heart was working at a deficit for so long that when a bit more normalcy was introduced, it compensated too far in the other direction." Fry sighed, "The honest assessment is that we've never seen someone like him in this state, there's just not a lot we can do to anticipate what's going to happen, the best we can do is react as quickly as we can." She watched Michelle's expression fall farther but she didn't have anything to make it better.

Michelle's shoulders fell and her voice was soft when she asked, "Can we still stay with him?"

Fry nodded, a sad frown on her face, "Of course, but for right now don't sleep on the bed." Her gaze shifted from Michelle to Tony, "I don't want another fight if we have to move you again."

Tony's eyes widened but he nodded shyly.

May's choked voice was the most composed of the three when she asked, "What can we expect from here?"

Fry narrowed her eyes in thought for a moment before she offered, "It's hard to tell this early because there is a possibility we exacerbated his existing injuries but there is a good chance that was the worst of it. Hopefully, if we keep up the nutrients the way we have and continue to monitor his condition, he's on the mend. And even if it isn't, the more information we have on his symptoms, the more likely we are to keep him alive." She winced at her description but knew it was accurate so she didn't try to correct it.

When they didn't ask anything else, Fry gave them a sad smile and quietly said, "You should try to get some more sleep." With a short nod, she left, closing the door behind her.

They all laid down but no one slept.

* * *

Natasha was standing across from Peter's room, her foot kicked up on the wall, arms crossed in front of her and her head down. But her posture was tight, frustrated and it was reflected in her voice, "We have to talk to them. Sooner rather than later." This was the third day she had brought this up.

Steve stood with his back to the room and his gaze fixed on her threatening posture, "We can't right now, Nat. None of us can. We won't be able to get what we need out of them. You know how difficult people like that are like to question. If we go in there like this..." He passed his hands between them before he continued, "It won't go well. For any of us." Her gaze snapped to his at the implication.

She tossed her chin toward the room, "You know what happened last night. He almost died, Steve. For real this time. The tech they have is dangerous. We need to know how they did that, what they were planning on doing with it. Hell, if they're able to copy the rest of us. Because we need to be able to protect against that."

Steve knew she was right and there wasn't any sense in fighting her on it so he heavily sighed, "Yeah...we do."

Natasha gave a hard nod and fixed her attention on the window.

For as easily as she let the conversation lapse, Steve didn't notice a difference in Natasha's posture. She still held herself rigid only this time her eyes were fixed straight ahead. As he watched her, he realized she was watching each of the people in the room with a protective gaze. He chewed on her reaction for a minute. Only then did he understood her impatience. Finally, he dropped his gaze to her feet and spoke in a condolatory tone, "I feel guilty too."

Natasha let her gaze slowly wander back to him for a few minutes, she wondered how long it would take for any of them to talk about what happened outside of Peter's condition. And she wasn't surprised Steve started the conversation. Still, she didn't say anything, she was willing to just let him talk. Her gaze drifted back into the room.

He knew she was listening, even though he didn't raise his eyes off the ground, and he continued, "We should have been more diligent. We should have focused on his killers before we went to help that planet. We should have been more...sure he was gone, I guess." He shrugged, unable to form any kind of coherent argument. He sighed and looked up at her, "I get why you want to talk to them but going after them with this latent guilt will start us on the back foot."

Natasha finally met his eyes. She had a dangerously sinister look on her face. It was the same one she used whenever someone had read a situation terribly wrong. When Steve's expression dropped from empathy to confusion she explained in a tight snarl, "I don't feel guilty. I'm furious."

As his confusion shifted into surprise, she growled, "This time there isn't anything we could have done differently. We lost." Her voice became deadly serious, "The worst thing we can do is feel like we could have done something different because every time we get on that, we imagine that we can somehow perceive all threats. And when we can't and something happens, it paralyzes us. Blinds us to what needs to be done to move forward. Not for long, but so much can happen in the blink of an eye."

Steve gaped at her, unsure of what she was saying.

She read his disbelief. She finally broke her tight stance and gestured toward Peter's room, "Think about it this way. Tony held him, comforted him as he died, and he still couldn't tell it wasn't his son. May and MJ both saw the body and they never once questioned that Peter was dead. That's incredibly dangerous." She watched as Steve's expression dropped to contemplative. Then she pressed, "The way I see it, there wasn't anything the rest of us could have done to prevent this. And we sure as hell need to protect against it in the future." She threw her hand toward the room, "But more importantly, we need to make sure we know what they did to him, so we can _help_. We can't be frozen on this because he's _hurt_, Steve." Natasha choked on her words for the first time as she finally allowed her sadness to show, "Not like the other times. This is different. I saw him with Tony and MJ. You did too. That's not him. He's not coming back from this easily and the more we know about what they did, the more we'll help him. Yah I'm fucking pissed but that won't stop me from doing what needs to be done."

Steve turned slowly and glanced at the group in the room now. She was right. If nothing else, they needed to be able to help Peter when he woke up. And Steve refused to believe that he wouldn't.

* * *

**And there you have it. See what I mean about the medical stuff? Hopefully, it was alright! **

**Feel free to let me know what you thought in the reviews.**

**I hope you all have a wonderful day/night and stay creative!**

**-Lily**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hey everyone!**

**I have another chapter for you :) But before I get started, as is tradition, I want to say thank you to those of you who favorited and followed, it means a lot.**

**And I wanted to give a special thank you to:**

**\- the fantastically wonderful xsheepix, I'm glad you liked Natasha's monologue! That was one of the last edits I made so I'm really happy it worked!**

**\- the phenomenally amazing carajiggirl, I'm glad it worked alright! And I'm hoping that I can keep digging into the impact of that treatment effectively because I think it's really interesting and I enjoy the challenge of writing about it. As for the Peter/Tony interactions, they'll definitely be in there. I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**Well, that's all I have for an author's note on this chapter. So, I hope you...**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Coming back to consciousness sucked.

Everything was heavy. It was almost like his body was lead. Peter knew it was because every part of him was broken in one way or another.

But the fact that he could feel that oppressive weight sitting on his chest and slowly crushing him meant he still wasn't dead.

_You could be if you just gave up_. The voice Peter had been trying desperately to batter away was louder now, more insistent, and he caught himself listening, if only for a heartbeat. Even that small slip up was enough to encourage the voice and, this time, it offered a new solution. The dangerous suggestion slipped through his mind with a seductive hiss, _You know, you could get them to kill you. It wouldn't take much…_

Peter forced himself to stop. If he kept listening…he knew the longer he gave those thoughts credence, the easier it would be to slip toward that course of action. But he couldn't do that; he didn't give up. He had to hold on. Still, his mind wasn't immune to the oppressive lethargy of his body, and that made it more difficult even to begin to dismantle the roadblocks his pessimism kept throwing up.

Desperate for a distraction, he focused on his surroundings.

It was a trick he devised a while ago. He forced himself to lay still and anticipate the pain. Some times it helped. Other times it gave him a chance to focus on something he could control.

So, Peter pressed his head further into his arm, further into the cold stone, and squeezed his eyes shut as he waited for his body to catch up, tensing for when the pain finally started. As he waited, he dug deeper, trying to remember where the hurt would start – it always started somewhere – usually with the last thing they broke.

As he tried to recall the last punishment, where the explanation should be, most of his memories were fuzzy. It wasn't a surprise; they had probably hit him in the head a few times. At the failure, Peter gave up, partly because it didn't matter and partially because the pain started to lance through his body. It wasn't quite as intense as he expected, but it was there.

Peter squeezed his eyes closed and pressed his head farther into his arm...

Which he belatedly realized wasn't under his head…

Instead, he felt a strange sensation beneath him. What he had expected to be hard stone now felt…almost soft? Like they had found the decency to give him another blanket. That would explain why he also felt warmer than he had in a while. Maybe there was something to getting sick, perhaps they were trying to keep him alive, and the extra blanket was meant to help. Either way, a part of him appreciated it.

As he focused on that comfort, Peter realized he was on his back.

He usually curled up to keep warm, but now he was stretched out. That was weird...

His mind continued to wake up, which made it easier to acknowledge other oddities of his current situation, and it caused his fear to spike. His realizations came faster now. The rest of his body throbbed with aching injuries. His mind was on fire. He was desperately hungry. But the thing that caught his attention most acutely was his hands. They somehow felt heavier than the rest of him. Like they were particularly weighed down. Peter panicked farther as a vague memory surfaced of the last time they had broken his hands.

They felt heavy then, too.

Admittedly, there had also been a significant amount of pain the last time.

The inconsistencies made him nervous, and that helped clear even more of the muddled mess of his brain, sharpening his senses. They were planning something. It was a new angle, and Peter needed to figure it out before it could hurt him.

Given this new direction, this new focus, Peter kept his eyes closed and reached out with his other senses. He needed to know what was going on.

The warmth and the pressure he noticed was accurate but, as he breathed in more deeply, he noticed a weird smell. Instead of the damp dinginess of the cell, his world smelled clean…almost…antiseptic? With a horrifying mental jolt, Peter recognized the scent. It smelled like a hospital. He slipped back to the last time he had detected that and immediately recalled the loneliness of that situation. Following closely on the heels of his terror was deep betrayal - Tony had saved him that time.

But he was still on his own now.

He mentally shook himself out of it and tried to get back to the present. Focusing on the pieces, Peter scrambled to put the puzzle together. If they had him in a hospital room, was the pressure on his hands from restraints? He strained to hear what was going on while he stealthily tested his strength and levels of pain. It felt as though they had given him time to heal, at least a bit.

What were they doing?

Whatever it was, they had messed up because he felt like he could fight. He slowly visualized the room around him based on what he knew about his cell. It wasn't that every room was the same, but there were consistencies in the little he had seen. The ceilings were higher, challenging to leap to if his legs were severely injured. So he carefully tested his feet, bending them a bit at the ankles. His foot was still broken, but his legs seemed stable enough. He just had to get into a crouch, and he could make it at least partially up the walls before they got to him.

Steadying himself, he audibly reached out and tried to figure out where they were. He listened intently, but, this time, his senses failed. He could hear murmuring voices, but his ears were ringing too badly to make out locations. The only thing he could tell was that the voices didn't sound angry. Just soft.

What were they planning?

Once he had gathered everything he could through his other senses, Peter steeled his resolve. Squashing the nerves, he winked his eyes open, hoping to catch a glimpse of the room before anyone knew he was awake. He regretted it immediately when he saw multiple sets of worried, tired eyes staring at him. In shock, he opened his eyes wider. It looked like all the Avengers were sitting in front of him. Peter froze. He knew it was a lie, but it seemed so real, and he was _so _homesick, he let himself believe it for a heartbeat. All thought of escape fled, and he just stared. It was so close to what he remembered. But the surprise wore off, and he remembered where he was.

It wasn't his family. They were facsimiles created by his enemies to hurt him. And if he stayed frozen where he was for much longer, they would.

Peter yanked his hands from the fake Tony and Michelle's grasp – the restraints, he reminded himself – and tugged his legs under him. He was a little surprised that no one moved but, he kept going anyway, quickly leaping away and landing against the wall behind the bed. His heart sank when he felt the cold stone under his fingertips. Just like everything else, this room was a lie.

Peter's face twisted into a snarl as his eyes darted around the room. He was looking for an easily accessible escape. Until Mysterio's demanding voice cut across the tense silence, "It's not what you think, Pete. Stop."

Peter hated himself when he froze like everyone else, although his eyes snapped to Mysterio's.

* * *

Peter's soft aborted cry was the first thing to catch anyone's attention.

Then he started to shift slightly. First, his hands and then his feet. He moved slowly but deliberately. As they watched, everyone unconsciously leaned forward, but, thankfully, no one moved. Tony tried whispering to him, reminding him where he was, trying to explain what was going on. But Peter didn't react. Until, without warning, Peter's eyes squinted open only moments before they widened in surprise.

The room held its breath.

Peter moved first, quick as ever. He sucked in a deep breath, yanked himself free from Tony and Michelle's hands, and leaped against the wall. As one, the Avengers lunged toward him instinctively, but no one laid a hand on him because Tony's barking voice paralyzed the room.

Peter might have frozen physically, but his distrusting eyes snapped to Tony. He snarled down at the man and yelled from his relatively safe position, "Why do you keep doing this to me? What are you getting out of this?" He felt stronger and angry. He wanted to fight. But Peter knew his strength would only last so long. Once they revealed their plan and started in on him, he wouldn't make it. His only goal was to survive long enough to injure a few on the way out.

Tony watched him steadily, and before Peter could run, he carefully, non-threateningly, stepped under where Peter stuck to the wall. He forced back the hurt that hit him in the gut when his son inched a little higher up the wall. Instead, he looked Peter in the eyes and said, "I'm not them, Pete. I'm not him. You're not there anymore. You have to remember what happened."

Peter's anger flared, and he straightened his arms, leaning as far forward as he could before he snarled, "This is all a trick. Everything you do is malicious; whatever you want me to remember is a lie." He slipped into a lower crouch and looked around a bit more pointedly. When he didn't find an immediate escape beyond the door, he returned his attention to Tony and growled, "Just fight me as you. Stop using him." He tossed his chin to Michelle and May, "Stop using them." Peter swallowed the fear that was building in his chest and kept going, baiting his enemy, "You're going to kill me anyway, I would prefer you did it as you." Then he flippantly added, "Hell, I would prefer you did it soon."

Tony wasn't outwardly phased. Admittedly, hearing his son ask someone to kill him jarred him to the core, but he knew he couldn't show it. He stayed where he was, weathering Peter's fury and frustration before he promised, "No one's going to kill you because you're not there anymore. You know what's true. You know what happened. You have to _remember_ it."

Peter's gaze narrowed farther as his traitorous mind flashed to the fuzzy memories. For a moment, he dug for a hint of what Mysterio meant, but he stopped himself, "I don't have to remember anything."

Desperate to help Tony, Michelle stepped forward and pleaded, "Peter, please, listen to him. You're at the Compound. We're all here. You're _safe_."

Peter snarled at her before he turned back to Mysterio and snapped, "You do voices pretty well, I have to say I'm impressed. It's a shame you're a failure in almost every other facet of your life." Peter pressed Mysterio farther, trying to get him to show some anger. A small part of him told him to slow down, but he pressed anyway.

Exhaustion and frustration were never a good combination, and Tony battered his back. He scrubbed his hand across his face, trying to maintain the collected exterior, but the motion left the hair, standing up a bit on the edges. He let out a breath and swore, "You're home. MJ's not a projection. Neither is May. The rest of them aren't either. They're worried about you. I'm worried about you, kid."

Peter saw Mysterio's frustration. He reveled in it, but then he did something Tony always did, and Peter couldn't help the flash of an image that tore through the fuzzy block of his memory. He tried to shake it away, but other snippets flashed through his mind. Then Tony kept talking, and the honesty in his voice was impossible for Peter to ignore. His head started to throb, and he forced to close his eyes against the newest source of pain.

Tony was tired, but he had known, after what Peter had been through, that finally waking up was going to result in a fight. And it was one he couldn't afford to lose. Tony remembered what Natasha had told him a bit about what they had put Peter through. It had given him a better understanding of why Peter had asked for proof before, and Tony decided to try it again. He carefully chose his words, "Pete, when we found you, you asked me to prove that I was me. You told me to tell you something that only I would know. Do you remember that?"

Another vague memory shot through Peter's mind. They were both sitting in a familiar cell, and Peter heard his scratchy voice demand that proof. Peter involuntarily nodded.

Tony saw Peter's narrowed eyes widen, and he prayed what he was about to do would work. Tony continued slowly, "I told you about the necklace you bought for MJ, the black dahlia, do you remember that?" Tony lightly snapped his fingers toward Michelle, gesturing at the necklace she rarely took off.

Michelle hurriedly pulled at the chain around her neck, tugging the glass pendant free from under her shirt.

Peter's gaze locked on it for a moment before he looked up at her in surprise and then back at Tony when he continued to talk.

Tony saw the realization and continued, "You sold your Star Wars collectibles for it. Do you remember that?" Without waiting for an answer, Tony continued, "I mentioned Morgan and the zoo, your car, the walnut date loaf. Do you remember that?" Tony couldn't help the hopeful begging in his tone.

Peter's compulsory nod was belied by the rapidly clearing, fuzzy memories of that conversation and their subsequent escape. Peter finally faltered. As if in confirmation, what had felt like stone under his fingertips was increasingly turning into…something else. Still, Peter could have easily said those things. Maybe they had tricked him into revealing them. Even given that, he couldn't stop the hope that welled again in his chest. He relaxed only slightly before he decided to test the theory. Quietly he asked, "Tell me something else, something no one else could know."

Tony paused for a moment as he wracked his brain. Then he thought of something small, "We watch Spongebob and Voltron in the lab when we don't want to listen to music." But before Peter could say anything, Tony turned up his nose. He needed something else. It only took him a moment before he blurted out, "The first time I asked you to join the Avengers, you turned me down because you thought it was a test." Tony watched Peter's distrust finally slip as his eyes welled up with tears. Buoyed by that, Tony was more insistent when he said, "It wasn't by the way…a test, I mean...I probably wasn't my best-conceived plan, but it wasn't a test." Then he added absentmindedly, "I don't actually know if I ever told you that."

Peter shifted down the wall a few inches, but his gaze was locked on Tony's as he murmured, "Promise?"

Tony took an unconscious step forward, "Yes."

But it wasn't enough, so Peter timidly asked, "This is real?"

Tony nodded vehemently as a few tears slipped out, "It's real, Pete."

Peter's gaze slipped warily over to Michelle and May before he asked, "You're you?"

May nodded carefully, mimicking Tony's easy movements before she said, "It's us, Peter." And Michelle said at the same time, "You're not there anymore, you're home."

Peter's gaze ghosted over at the others in the room, taking in each Avenger standing in front of him before he took a risk and slipped the rest of the way down the wall. Taking the weight off his now throbbing foot, he dropped one-legged onto the soft mattress. He looked between everyone before his gaze settled back on his immediate family. There was another brief moment of consideration before all three lunged forward and wrapped their arms tightly around him. Peter flinched but relaxed into the comfort. He reminded himself he was safe. He buried his head in the closest shoulder and closed his eyes hard, trying to come to terms. The gentle contact helped.

For a time.

Unfortunately, Peter had been without kindness for too long, and the arms wrapped gently around him became more of a threat than a comfort. It was too much, and regardless of how tightly he closed his eyes, he couldn't breathe through the building panic three sets of grasping arms caused. He shivered before he hurriedly asked, "Can you sit back? Please, please stop." Tony was the first to hear it. Understanding the fear and panic in his son's tone, he nearly jumped away from Peter. Michelle caught it a half a moment after him and followed, pushing away. May also leaned away but not quite as far as the others.

Taking a stuttered breath, Peter pressed a shaking hand to his head and murmured, "I can't, I'm sorry...I'm sorry, it's too much."

The three were quick to utter mollifying sentiments as they slipped back into the chairs at the bedside.

Peter eventually steadied his breathing and opened his eyes again, still trying to figure out precisely what happened. He fixed his gaze on the bed before he sheepishly asked, "How'd…uhh…how'd I get here? I can't remember."

Tony hurried to answer, "We went after the people we thought..." Tony choked on the words before he laid it out, wincing as he did, "killed you. When Clint was clearing some of the other rooms…he found you."

Peter's pleading eyes looked even larger with his gaunt face.

Tony shook his head as vocalizing it made him realize something, "Actually, I need to thank him..." He trailed off as he took a quick look around the room because a part of him just realized how close they had come to leaving Peter to die. Then he muttered, "Maybe I can build him a new farm...or something."

Peter watched Tony's distraction, and in an attempt to get the attention back, he hesitantly asked, "How long have I been out?"

Tony's wide-eyed expression met his, but Michelle answered with a quiet, "Five days, but you were gone for a month before that." She chewed her lip hard as she tried to keep herself from crying again.

Peter's gaze snapped to hers. He could see the hurt in her eyes, and he couldn't help but reach out and grab the hand she had rested on the bed. He looked at her and murmured, "I'm sorry I made you worry."

Michelle gripped Peter's hand in return, "I'd rather worry than mourn."

Peter blushed in embarrassment, but he knew that tone, and if he said anything else, she would lay it on thicker. To avoid that, he diverted his attention to the rest of the Avengers. When he tried to raise his voice enough to address them, it croaked badly, "Hey, everyone." May pulled a glass of water off the table next to the bed for him. But while he tried to ease his sore throat, an awkward silence fell across the group.

True to form, Peter, broke that discomfort once he could talk again. He raised his voice, "Thanks for coming to get me." He choked on tears as he muttered, "I didn't think I would get out of that one." He curled a bit as he realized how stupid his tears were. But then May leaned over and tugged him close. Peter gave in to the comfort that he desperately needed and wrapped his arms around her waist. He dug his head into her shoulder and tried to collect himself. Tony's hand fell lightly on his back, and Michelle's hand clutched his. Suddenly, he was angry about refusing their comfort earlier. He wanted that back. But, at the same time, he wasn't quite ready for it. As he argued with himself, he eventually leaned away from May and back into the pillow. It was still incredibly awkward, but even blinking was becoming a momentous task, and he found himself caring increasingly more about that. Until his stomach growled audibly. The liquid diet he had been on for nearly six days finally made itself know.

Tony saw Peter's exhaustion and immediately redirected the conversation away from the heavy tone it had taken, "I think that means it's time for dinner." He looked over with a forced smirk, "You hungry, Pete?"

Peter appreciated the distraction, and he nodded hurriedly, "I am. I'm so hungry."

Tony's smirk shifted into something more real then, "What do you want?"

Peter shook his head as he admitted, "I don't care. I just need to eat."

"Chinese it is." Tony announced before calling up to FRIDAY, "Whatever the normal is, double it."

"Of course, boss."

As silence descended on the room again, Peter awkwardly watched everyone for a bit before he murmured, "So what'd I miss?"

* * *

The Avengers stayed until Peter started to nod off. Only then did they begin to find reasons to leave, and over the next twenty minutes, they slipped away until only his immediate family was left. As Peter dozed on the pillow, they slowly crept away from the bed, focused on the other sleeping places they had found over the last week.

But Peter's quiet, sleepy voice broke across the murmur of whispered steps. He carefully asked, "Dad?" He couldn't help but bite his tongue a bit at the title. It had been so long since he had used it that it felt a little weird in his mouth. The moniker was right, that he didn't question, but Tony had been dangerous for so long that it felt strange to call for him. Still, Peter knew more than anything that he needed as much normalcy and comfort as possible.

Tony turned and looked back at Peter expectantly, a soft smile forming on his lips.

"Can you…umm…can I…uhh…" Peter wasn't sure how to ask for what he needed. It had been nearly a decade since he had needed that comfort, and it was embarrassing to ask for that again, but he desperately needed it. It was a comfort that reminded him of where he was, of who he was, and he knew he would have to rely on that.

Tony knew what he wanted because he had been thinking the same thing. Without a word, Tony kicked his feet up on the mattress and relaxed into the pillow. He held his arm out expectantly. When Peter slipped into his side and curled into his shoulder, Tony instinctually wrapped his arm tight around his shoulders and ran his hand up and down Peter's arm a few times.

Peter heaved out a shaky sigh and pressed his head into Tony's shoulder before he said, "I don't want to hurt you."

Tony pressed a kiss into Peter's hair before he assured, "You won't, Pete. Just try to get some sleep, okay?"

But Peter was frightened about what the morning would hold, and his voice wavered when he asked, "What happens when I wake up? What if I can't remember?"

Tony shrugged. His voice betrayed his dedication when he promised, "Then I, or we, remind you."

Peter was nothing if not adamant, and he pressed, "I don't want you to have to do that."

"Too bad." Tony murmured, already closing his eyes because he knew what the outcome of this conversation would be. Then before Peter could bring anything else up, Tony muttered, "Go to sleep, Pete. You need it, and so do I. Close your eyes and relax."

Peter listened against his better judgment, partially because he so desperately wanted to believe Tony and partly because painkillers and substantial injuries have a way of ensuring that even the worst nightmares are held at bay.

* * *

Peter opened his heavy eyes, expecting to feel the weight of his dad's arm around his shoulders, but instead, he was in his room. The image of the heavy stone walls was burned into his mind, and Peter jumped violently when he realized where he was. As he crushed his inexplicable heartbreak and tried to get his bearings, the door at the end of the room creaked open. There was a lone figure standing in the doorway, but Peter had learned early that didn't mean there was only one person in the room. Peter swallowed his fear and tried to shake the dreams out of his mind as the figure revealed which tormentor he was. Vulture's smooth voice cut through the din with a gleeful, "Oh, you think you actually made it out? That's adorable." Vulture continued to chuckle as he threateningly stepped into the room. Once he was clear of the threshold as if with magic, the door closed with a heavy thunk.

The sound sent shivers up Peter's spine as he stared at the man across from him. The man he was so sure he had escaped from.

Peter closed his eyes tight and tried to understand what was happening. His mind spun into overdrive as he sorted through what he was sure had been a few days of freedom. But the deeper he pushed into his memories, the more painfully his mind pounded in rhythm with his hammering heart.

Had that all been a lie?

He had seen his family.

Right?

He had been home.

Hadn't he?

But as Vulture leaned down into Peter's face and snarled, his stale breath drifted clearly into the space between them, and Peter got a distinct impression he had been wrong. That everything he had experienced was a lie, and he was back with his enemies.

Back where they were going to hurt him.

Back to where his family didn't know what had happened to him.

Back on his own.

Well, not back because he had never left.

Shit.

Vulture watched the horrified expression on Peter's face, and his smirk grew into an exaggerated smile as the full implications of Mysterio's illusions sank in. He started to laugh. Once he settled down, he teased, "Oh, Pedro, you are really pathetic." But his voice betrayed his pride when he added, "I have to give Mysterio credit, his illusions are becoming almost seamless."

Peter forced himself into a sitting position as he tried to understand what was happening. It had been so real, how had he been so wrong?

Vulture laughed again at Peter's obvious confusion until his expression shifted into anger. He lashed out and viciously kicked Peter in the chest. Peter felt that distinctly acute pain. He was wrong. He had to be. His heart sank, and he felt that spark of hope that had been forcing him to hold on finally whither.

They were going to hold him in a perpetual hell.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

Except hurt them. Hurt as many of them as he could before they killed him. Peter sat up higher and pressed his hand to his throbbing chest as he tried to find enough anger to make this worthwhile. Steeling the last of his resolve, Peter lunged. But he didn't make it before a blast from one of Mysterio's drones tossed him in the other direction.

Vulture just started to cackle.

* * *

Tony was wrenched out of deep sleep as Peter jolted out of his arms, "Whoa, wha'? Pete?" He fought to wake up, but when he heard a thump on the other side of the bed, Tony's eyes flew open, and he immediately sat up. Scrambling to the side of the bed, he leaned over and saw Peter on the floor. Tony forced himself to slow down before he dropped down beside his son. He knew he couldn't move too quickly, or he would freak Peter out.

Peter curled over his chest and tucked himself under the bed, muttering, "Stay back…" and "Stay away from me." His eyes were tightly closed.

Tony crouched the best he could in front of him and gently laid his hand on Peter's cheek. Natasha had told him that the Six intentionally avoided any type of physical contact that wasn't violent. It made sense. Peter would have known the truth then. But Tony had also learned quickly it helped because it was tangible.

Peter jolted at the attention but didn't open his eyes, just continued to murmur threatening pleas.

Tony ran his thumb along the still sharp cheekbones as he murmured, "Pete, you have to wake up, okay? Something's wrong, and I can't help unless you wake up."

But Peter continued to flinch and twist away from Tony.

"Pete, _please_. Wake up." Tony raised his voice in frustration at the last command. He bit his tongue as soon as the snippy remark left his mouth, but it was too late to take it back. Peter's eyes popped open, but it wasn't him. His eyes were hard, cold, and Tony immediately knew Peter wasn't seeing him. Peter's unconscious terrors had shifted into the waking world. Tony saw the attack coming when Peter snarled at him. He tried to brace himself, but Peter threw both hands forward, connecting solidly with Tony's shoulders and throwing him back into the wall. Tony hit hard and crumpled immediately, unconscious.

Pepper's voice cut through the confusion, "Tony!" She darted forward, falling to her knees in front of her husband as Michelle knelt in front of Peter, far enough away to avoid touching him. She shot a look behind her at Pepper and Tony, but she didn't let her concentration waver long. Her voice was soft when she begged, "Peter, you have to stop."

Peter snarled again and lunged at her, but suddenly Steve was there. He caught Peter around the waist before he could get to Michelle. Peter struggled against the captain's arms, but it gave Michelle a chance to talk to him. She laid her hand on the side of his face, forcing him to look at her. She looked him dead in the eyes and said, "Peter, it's me. It's MJ. Okay?" She tried Tony's strategy, quickly throwing out a story, "Do you remember when we were in Prague, and you took me to the bridge because you were gonna tell me you loved me?" Michelle winced at the revealing information, but she kept going, "I was afraid of what you were going to say, so I told I knew you were Spider-Man. Or that I was pretty sure you were Spider-Man. Then we found the drone camera, remember?" Michelle's voice slipped into begging as she tried to get him to listen to her. She breathed out a sigh of relief when she saw a flicker of recognition and confusion in his eyes. She pressed, "You have to stop fighting. Whatever you're seeing, it's not real. You already hurt your dad, if you don't stop you could hurt Steve. Or me. You're _safe. You're_ safe with us." There was a pregnant pause before Michelle let out a sigh of relief as the manic fear and anger faded from his gaze. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, trying to hold back the tears as she tried hard not to listen to Pepper, begging Tony to wake up. When she opened her eyes again, Peter was looking at her.

His struggling stilled. Peter looked down at the arms around his waist before looking over his shoulder at Steve and then back to Michelle, "Wha'? What happened?" Then Pepper's frantic voice caught his attention, and he flicked his gaze up over Michelle's shoulder. His eyes widened, and he asked, horrified, "Did I do that?"

Michelle felt tears prick in her eyes before she hesitantly nodded.

Peter watched the affirmative and started to struggle again. This time, Steve let him go. Peter clumsily got his feet under him and bolted to Tony, dropping to his knees at Pepper's side. His voice was choked when he whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't…I didn't mean to. I didn't know…" He reached out with shaking hands but was terrified to touch Tony as he slowly came back to consciousness. Instead, Peter murmured horrified apologies as tears tracked down his cheeks.

Tony blinked his eyes wide a few times before he shook his head to clear it. When that didn't quite work, he pressed his hand to his head and asked with a groan, "What happened?" Then he heard a sniffle, and he winked his eyes open one at a time. The haze slipped into the background when he zeroed in on his son, and his confusion shifted to concern, "What's wrong, Pete?"

Peter's eyes widened in disbelief before he guiltily explained, "I did this. I hurt you." He thrust his hand up at Tony. The tears rolled freely down his face. He was getting angry at his lack of control. "I just…after everything you've done...I've been back...I'm safe...I don't...get it." He scrunched his expression in inarticulate anger. "I'm sorry…I don't know what's wrong with me." Peter slipped his hands into his hair and tugged at the roots, trying to find some kind of answer in his muddled mind.

Tony tried to move toward Peter, but he moved too quickly and had to stop when his head started to spin. He pressed his hand back to the side of his head to ease the instant headache, but when that didn't work, he met Peter's eyes anyway. He winked up at him and promised, "There's nothing wrong with you."

Peter's anger and frustration were evident in his tone, and he dropped his hands to his thighs. He snapped, "How can you say that? I threw you backward, and you hit your head so hard, you blacked out. What if that had been MJ or May or Pepper, or, god forbid, Morgan? I could have killed any of them. I could have killed you."

"But, you didn't." Tony insisted his pain eased enough for him to reach forward and lay his hand on Peter's arm.

"That's not a guarantee I won't," Peter growled in retort. But the pain in his splitting head was so severe. He shoved the heels of his hands into his eyes. His world felt like it was pulling apart at the seams, and he didn't know how to fix it. He didn't know how to put it back together.

But then Tony was back in front of him, his hands on either side of Peter's head, "I've told you this a thousand times...I'm not going to stop helping you. It's just not going to happen. You didn't hurt me, and you won't." He leaned forward, slower this time, and he hissed, "I _trust_ you. A part of you knows what's true, but you're not comfortable enough to trust it."

Peter dropped his hands and looked directly at Tony, his eyes tearing up, "I don't want to be like this."

Tony's adamant hiss contradicted Peter's fear, "And you won't be. I swear to you. You'll get better. It won't happen quickly, but it will happen."

"How do you know? How can you know that?" Peter begged, closing his eyes shut against the physical and emotional pain.

Tony swore his answer, "Because I do whatever I have to, to be right." Tony turned his head sideways so he could look at Peter's closed eyes, and he promised, "You're my son, and I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure you're alright." When Peter met Tony's gaze, Tony pressed, "Do you trust me?"

Peter hurriedly nodded as the tears started to fall faster. He wanted to figure out where he had gone so incredibly wrong, but Tony's gaze was so honest and confident that Peter couldn't look away.

Tony took the chance and wrapped his arms around his son's shoulders. Peter collapsed into his chest. Hiding his head in Tony's shoulder, he started to sob. Tony wrapped his arms tighter, rocking Peter the same way he used to rock Morgan when he had a bad dream. He held him securely, promising that he wasn't going anywhere and that everything around him was real. Peter nodded along but didn't respond beyond tears.

Tony held him until he quieted down, and after a few careful breaths, Tony asked, "Think you can try to get some more sleep?"

Peter shook his head.

Tony wrapped him up more solidly and assured, "Okay, that's alright." He adjusted his position just a bit as he got more comfortable on the floor, leaning back against the wall and letting Peter rest more fully against him. He looked up at Michelle and Pepper with a worried frown. They returned the sentiment but didn't have any more answers than he did. But Michelle saw his discomfort. She stood and grabbed a blanket and pillow off the bed. She laid the pillow behind Tony's head and draped the blanket over the two of them before she leaned back against the leg of the chair next to her. She resolved to sit with them until Peter woke up.

* * *

**That's what I have for you for now. ****Peter's finally back where he needs to be and awake but that doesn't mean he's anywhere near healed. Unfortunately, that's definitely going to take some more time. **

**Feel free to let me know what you thought in the reviews :)**

**I hope you have a wonderful night/day and stay creative!**

**-Lily**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey everyone,**

**I really need to apologize for my sudden absence. I had some personal things I was dealing with and it took a bit more of my mental capacity than I thought it would. That being said, it was kind of therapeutic to finally be able to write again. **

**For those of you who favorited and followed during the wait, thank you. It was definitely motivation to get back to this story. **

**I also want to say thank you to the absolutely amazing carajiggirl, I hope the wait was worth it and that the path I'm taking makes sense with Peter's recovery! Thank you so much for always commenting, it makes me smile :) **

**Well, that's all I have for right now so without further ado, **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Michelle stayed silent as Pepper settled next to Tony, throwing worried looks in his direction even though he couldn't see them. He had rested his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. But Michelle knew Tony wasn't quite asleep. He was running his hand up and down Peter's back.

As Michelle watched, she couldn't keep her stomach from turning violently. She felt so lost. So pathetic. So useless. She had been hoping he would be okay, and for the first time, it was apparent he wasn't. For the last few days, Peter had managed to sleep mostly undisturbed. Unfortunately, that progressively tapered off the stronger and more lucid he became.

And that was dangerous.

Michelle shivered hard against the chair leg she was propped against as that thought ricocheted through her mind.

Four days, he had been in and out of sleep. For four days, not much had happened. He had been confused, but for the most part, it didn't take much to get him back on track.

And now this.

She pressed the acidic bite on the back of her tongue down as she realized this was going to be their new normal. Natasha had told her to prepare for when his exhaustion and the painkillers couldn't keep the nightmares at bay any longer. Had given her an idea of what it would look like, but Michelle now realized she had been hoping Natasha would be wrong.

Of course, she wasn't.

Tugging herself back to the present, Michelle watched the depressing scene. Tony's arms were wrapped tightly around Peter, clutching him to his chest. This was not her Peter. This was someone different. But for all the rage that bubbled up at that acknowledgment, it didn't last long when she realized Tony was finally asleep as well. His calming motions had stopped.

Their calm forced her to relax, and her eyes slowly started to slip at the edges. If nothing else, Peter at least looked peaceful, the deep ridges cut across his thin face smoothed out in sleep. Still, she couldn't keep out that thin tendril of thought to what was roiling under the surface.

All her thoughts derailed when May gingerly sat next to her. Out of the corner of her eye, Michelle caught her lean back against the chair leg, moments before her shoulder bumped Michelle's gently. Without warning, May grabbed Michelle's hand. It was comforting. Eventually, the emotional drain from the situation and the silence of the room caused them to drift off as well. Both stayed leaned back against the chair, but Michelle's head slipped onto May's shoulder, and May rested her head on the top of Michelle's.

For once, everything was calm.

Steve watched as everyone else fell asleep; he was on duty that night. He found a spot in the corner and sat down to watch the small family sleep. He had the sneaking suspicion Peter wasn't going to wake up again, but he wanted to make sure he was there just in case. He couldn't risk Peter lashing out at anyone else because, regardless of Tony's convictions, Steve was well aware Peter could put his fist through any of them without much effort. It was a horrifyingly gruesome thought, but it was now a necessary consideration.

As he watched, his mind wandered to the situation the rest of them had been grappling with.

Natasha had been relentless, but the only luck she had with real information was with the talkative ones. Sandman and Electro. Unfortunately, they were the lowest on the pyramid. They didn't know enough to explain how the Six had fooled the Avengers or why they had done it. But, Natasha learned quite a lot of unwanted knowledge about the methods they had used. Sickeningly, they seemed proud of that.

Sandman preferred surprise. He had carried out the more brutal beatings after he appeared suddenly in front of the captive superhero. When he had heard it, Steve remembered being surprised Peter wasn't more skittish.

Mysterio was bombastic about his projections. At one point, he offered to show a few of them to Natasha - she had broken his nose shortly after. Natasha hadn't been back in the room since, at least not alone.

Vulture cackled anytime anyone came near him. And the others had been just as forth-coming. Unfortunately, interrogation techniques weren't all the Avengers were interested in. But, when it came to what was actually needed, they were not nearly as helpful. Ultimately, it left Natasha, frustrated, and angry.

Steve rubbed at his eyes.

This was somehow more exhausting than when they thought Peter was dead. It had been physically easier than, at least, in terms of knowing what they needed to do. Knowing they needed to find and kill someone was much easier than trying to figure out how they did something and why they did something.

Still, all of it meant that Peter was alive.

Not long after they had gotten him back, they had exhumed his 'body' - Steve still wasn't sure what to call it because obviously, it wasn't Peter - but, even with that, no one had been able to explain how they had fooled…everyone into thinking he was dead. Bruce had been working on it, and so had the others. Strange had even shown up to help, but they still weren't quite there, and they needed to be.

Relatively soon.

The Six were going to end up on the Raft, but the Avengers wanted their secrets before they were sent to a prison the Avengers would probably never gain unsupervised access to again.

They needed Tony's help. But, he had been mostly noncommunicative since Peter had been back. He talked to them sure, but Steve had quickly realized this was probably the first time Tony couldn't bring himself to think about a problem, regardless of how pressing it was.

And it wasn't like anyone was going to push him on it.

Steve forced his mind to stop spiraling, and instead, he went back to watching.

Ultimately, they had their spider back, and regardless of what happened beyond this, that was the most important thing. Steve let his head drop back against the wall behind him and settled more fully into the chair. He wasn't going to move until he was sure that Peter wouldn't hurt someone else.

* * *

Peter woke in a fog.

His first realization was that he was being held, rather tightly. But he was on his side, and whatever he was lying on was finally comfortable, so he didn't overthink it. He instinctually knew there were other things to worry about. He tried to reach out with his senses again and get an idea of where he was, but his head throbbed in time with his heartbeat, and thinking quickly became impossible. His mind was fried. So, he gave in to the world around him. He stretched within the confines of his relatively comfortable restraints.

But when those restraints shifted, Peter involuntarily stiffened. He instinctually readied for the pain that would hit once they realized he was mostly awake.

Instead, it was a gravelly voice that gave him a hint of what was going on, "Pete? You good, kid?"

Peter squeezed his eyes closed and dug his head farther into the comfortable…whatever he was laying on. He had heard that voice before in his dreams. But the longer he thought about it, the more painful his headache became. So, he gave up and kept his eyes closed.

After a few minutes, the restraints shifted again. The voice followed quickly after, "Peter? Are you awake?"

Peter was terrified to answer. He knew that if he said anything, the result would be another beating, so he kept his mouth shut, and his eyes closed.

Then that voice sounded again over his head, but it was a whisper directed at someone else, "MJ, is he awake?"

Peter heard another voice he knew well, "I think so. He's moving like he is, but he's not opened his eyes yet."

Peter belatedly realized he was lying against a person when he felt a slight thump as what he assumed was someone's head dropped against the wall. Then the voice whispered further, "Alright, Pete, get some more sleep, and when you feel comfortable waking up, you let me know."

Silence fell over the room again and he managed to fall back into a doze. He woke up again as a short, mumbled conversation took place over his head.

The voice that sounded like Michelle asked, "How's your head? Are you okay?"

The person meant to be impersonating Tony responded in a way Peter could feel in his chest, "It's alright, still hurts a bit, but honestly, I've had worse hangovers, so this really isn't anything."

Michelle raised her voice, hopefully, "Do you want me to get you some painkillers?"

Peter hated the relish he felt at the answering rumble, "I'm alright. If he's not actually awake, I don't know that I want to wake him up."

"Okay." The facsimile of Michelle's voice made Peter's heart sink. He wanted so badly to go home. To see the people he loved and be as far away from here as possible. But he must done something to give it away because not long after that admission Tony's voice broke through again, "I think he's awake…"

Peter knew his cover was blown.

Tony finally shifted under Peter's weight, moving him slightly enough so he could see his face more thoroughly. Tony smiled sadly when his son curled tighter into his shoulder. Laying his free hand along the side of Peter's face, Tony quietly asked, "Pete, do you know where you are?"

Peter was terrified. This was a lie, so he resolved to stay in the calm for as long as he could. He put the outcome in someone else's hands.

When Peter turned his head more fully into Tony's shoulder, Tony realized what was going on. He sighed as he slipped his fingers into Peter's hair and carefully massaged the base of his neck. Tony dropped his head back against the wall. He was so tired. Huffing just a bit, Tony quietly started with memories, "Do you remember your graduation party? The one the Avengers threw when there weren't enough tickets for them to go?"

Without realizing what he was doing, Peter listened. The voice was so familiar. He let it wash over him for a bit, trying hard to remember it was all a lie. At least, he thought it was a lie until he comprehended the message. Tony kept going, "Or what about the time we saw Flash at that burger place you like? What was it…like five months after that incident at your school? I don't think I've ever seen anyone's eyes get that big. Not even Ned's the first time Steve let him hold his shield." Tony chuckled; it was a pretty funny memory. And yah, it might be a little fuzzy, but it was still a pleasant memory—one with a kid that he desperately wanted back.

The fog cleared slowly, but it cleared. Peter was left with the distinct memory of what happened the night before. He turned his head more fully into Tony's shoulder and took in a stuttering breath before slowly letting it out. Without looking up, Peter mumbled, "I'm sorry for what I did last night."

Tony's heart broke when he caught the first mumblings. He listened carefully as he tried to catch what Peter was saying. It wasn't hard. Tony quietly shushed the misplaced guilt, "It's not your fault, Pete." Not once did he stop the careful ministrations at the base of his skull. Instead, he tried to change the subject, "Are you hungry? Wanna try to get up?"

Peter wanted nothing more than to stay precisely where he was forever because that would mean he never had to move forward. He could be this. But he also knew Tony probably needed to move because the position he was in could not be comfortable, especially if he had been sitting like this for long.

So, Peter crushed his nearly overwhelming urge to sink into the floor and instead nodded. He pushed himself away with a monumental effort. He dropped his hands limply into his lap, and his shoulders slumped forward as he tried to drag himself out of whatever deep rut this was.

It didn't work.

Peter mentally shrugged. Oh well. At least his body was healing.

* * *

Whenever food was available, whoever was around usually showed up, and now was no different.

A large number of his family filed in when the Thai food miraculously appeared. It was nice, having the company, even though it also made him uncomfortable to be surrounded by that many people.

So, Peter settled on quiet. He obediently ate parts of whatever was on the plate someone put in front of him, but he wasn't hungry. Instead, he pressed what was left around his plate while those in the room talked in muted voices. His family tried to pull him in, to talk about things that they knew he would like, but Peter couldn't bring himself to engage.

He was too tired.

Too embarrassed.

Too many things that were just so unlike him.

Instead, he divided his time between his edible art piece and selfishly flicking his gaze up at his family from time to time. Even though he couldn't talk to them, he needed that reinforcement that they were, in fact, there.

He heard a few different voices utter his name intermittently. Each time, he paused as he tried to remember what the question had been before he laconically answered. But he didn't engage. He felt guilty at their worried gazes, but he could only watch from hooded eyes and scrape a little more food onto his fork.

Eventually, the stilted conversation ended when the food ran out, and instead of attempting to start another story, everyone settled in for a movie. It was Casablanca. It was Steve's turn to pick, and it was a quiet enough movie that those who needed to get some more sleep, could.

* * *

Natasha left about halfway through, taking Mantis and Wanda with her. A hard look was set on each face.

The movement caught Peter's attention. But when they didn't look his way, he needed to direct his gaze somewhere else. He glanced over at Michelle. She was sitting quietly next to him. Her hands dropped uncomfortably in her lap as she split her attention between the screen and sidelong glances. He tried to ignore the twitch in his hands that begged for contact because if he hurt her, he would never be able to forgive himself. He hated how rapidly he ocellated between needing the connection and fearing it, but finally need won. Peter watched her for a few more minutes before he reached out and murmured, "MJ?" Her eyes were wide when her gaze snapped to his.

Michelle had been wondering if she was going to be able to talk with him. He had been hot and cold on comfort, usually preferring Tony or May when he needed it, but Michelle stayed close anyway. So, when he said something to her, she couldn't hide her surprised reaction.

Peter watched her for a couple more moments before he whispered, "Can you…sit up here? Do you want to…you don't have to sit with me...Nevermind, I…I'm sorry…"

Michelle smiled at his stuttering. That hadn't been him in a while, but when they had started dating, she had always found it endearing. She gave him a soft smile before she climbed carefully onto the bed and wrapped her arms around him.

He was stiff for a moment and pulled in a sharp breath before he relaxed into her arms. She was real. Peter reminded himself this was all real. Actually real.

Michelle felt his heavy breath like a punch in the gut. She knew he was questioning the reality of her. But when she felt him relax, that sick feeling receded. Michelle ran her hands through his hair the best she could, silently begging him to accept that she was real.

They found some equilibrium as they settled back into watching the movie. It wasn't exactly her favorite, but it was on, and she had more important things to think about.

They stayed in that comfort until Peter nodded off.

Michelle debated moving so he could sleep comfortably, but she was afraid to wake him up. Instead, she stayed where she was and forced herself to calm down. She watched the end of the movie through bleary eyes, and as the end scene rolled, Michelle relaxed back into the pillows and closed her eyes.

* * *

She must have dozed off because she woke with a slight jump when someone touched her arm. It took her a second to catch up. When she did, there was another movie she had never seen on the screen, and her bleary eyes met May's.

May leaned close and whispered, "You okay?"

Michelle nodded.

May smiled softly, "Strange's going to stay down here tonight. So am I, and so is Tony."

"I figured." Michelle offered quietly, knowing that at least one of the stronger members needed to be in the room with them. But with that acknowledgment, the sick feeling resurfaced, and she murmured, "I really wish we didn't need a guard."

May's gaze dropped to the bed, and she muttered, "I know…so do I…" But when she looked back up, there was a spark in her eyes, and she continued with more optimism, "This won't be forever, though. This is a blip. You know how strong he is. There's very little that can keep him down. Especially not when he has the rest of us to help." May gave Michelle a sad smile and squeezed her shoulder encouragingly. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly as she dropped her hand away. Unfortunately, May stepping away allowed awkwardness to slip back into the space where comfort had been.

Michelle watched May slip into her own bed before she focused again on Peter. Michelle curled tighter and dropped her head back against the pillow.

* * *

They got nearly half a night of sleep before Peter jerked awake. His breath hitched in his chest and he shivered violently in a cold sweat.

Michelle was shaken out of sleep, but she quickly understood what was going on when she caught the golden projections around Strange's wrists. This was not nearly as bad as it could be. She held a hand up and wrapped the other one tighter around Peter as she hurried to reassure Strange, "He's okay. He's okay. It's just a nightmare; he's okay."

Michelle rushed passed her lack of articulation and looked down to where Peter had dug his head into her shoulder before she carefully asked, "Peter, do you know where you are?"

He nodded tentatively.

Michelle took that as enough evidence. She dropped the warning arm and looked back at Strange, "See, he's good. Just stop…that…" She winced at the, maybe inappropriate, order and added, "Please." Once the golden hue faded and he backed down, she gave him a nod of thanks and turned back to Peter. She tried to dismiss the unease of dealing with this incredibly personal thing when three other people were watching. Still, she tried. Lowering her voice, she said, "Calm down, Peter. It's alright; you're safe. We're all really here. We're here for you." Michelle realized she was talking much more than usual, but she couldn't stop. She was desperate to make him feel better.

And if she was honest, she was desperate to stay where she was.

Peter mumbled, "I know what's going on, MJ. I know where we are. It was just a bad dream." He wrapped her up tighter, too shaken to catch her wince when his fingers dug painfully into her sides.

Michelle grimaced, knowing that her sides were going to be bruised where his fingers pressed tightly into her skin. Still, she forced herself to focus, "That's good. That's really good. What do you need me to do?"

"Stay here," Peter ordered into her shoulder, his fingers closing just a little tighter.

Michelle recoiled a bit at the pain but bit down on her tongue and confidently said, "I'm not going anywhere. Is there anything else I can do?"

"Can you just talk to me?"

Michelle swallowed hard. It was hard for her to talk about things in front of people. Still, she knew that if that's what he needed, that was what she was going to do. She started to talk about anything she could think of from when they were younger. She started with the stuff from high school, it had been a more natural method for her because few people knew their history, so it was easier to talk about that.

As she talked, the others slowly retreated back into the shadows.

Michelle talked until she felt Peter's breathing even out. Only then did his fingers, thankfully, loosen, and she breathed a sigh of relief when that pressure disappeared. She was going to pay for that in the morning, but at least he was asleep.

Michelle could feel everyone's worried gaze on her, but she refused to acknowledge it and instead closed her eyes. She needed to think without everyone else's input. Her mind turned around the last few days, and no matter how far she let them wander, they always came back to the same point. Peter needed to start talking to someone.

In her heart, she was afraid it was probably too early to push. But at the same time, she knew that it was more important to start bringing it up because he wasn't talking to anyone. Not even Tony. This nightmare was thankfully mild compared to what had happened before, and she knew enough to assume that it was going to get much worse before it got better. PTSD was not something someone just got over. Nor should it be. But the sooner he talked to someone, the better off he would be.

At least, that's what her gut told her.

Still, all that meant she needed to talk to him. Michelle wasn't sure if she was ready to do that.

In fact, she was pretty sure she wasn't.

She knew Tony had mentioned it before, but it had been in passing, and Peter had blown it off because it was painful. He would probably do the same thing to her, but at the same time, something told her she had to try.

She let that thought slip around her mind until she eventually passed back out.

* * *

When she woke up the next morning, her world came back to her slowly.

Initially, she curled tighter into the weight at her side, immediately assuming it was Morgan. Determined to fall back to sleep for a bit, Michelle closed her eyes tight. She knew she would have to eke out the last bit of rest before the little boy was up and moving with the day. She mentally sighed as she tried to slow down. Peter's death had saddened Morgan, but he was dedicated to making the world better. And that, by extension, meant making her world better. Unfortunately (and she used that term begrudgingly), that meant she would need to get up earlier than her sadness wanted to let her.

But her waking mind realized the weight at her side was heavier than Morgan.

Her mind spun to catch up.

She couldn't pinpoint when she realized that it wasn't the little boy. Or when she remembered Peter was still alive but, ultimately, the pieces fell into place—followed quickly by everything that had happened the night before. Including the pain in her side.

Michelle shifted slightly in discomfort but forced it down because she didn't want to wake Peter up.

* * *

Tony watched Michelle wake up.

He hadn't fallen asleep the night before. He just couldn't. So, he stayed up and planned. He knew there was more going on that the others were taking care of, and it was time for him to pitch in. Peter being alive and Peter being back wasn't an excuse anymore. Because someone had convinced him that his son was dead and if Tony was honest, that terrified him. He needed to deal with that.

Even if he didn't want to.

But his alertness also meant he noticed when Michelle started to wake up. He had seen her wince the night before and had been on the returning end of Peter's nightmares enough to realize what he could have done. Resolving to do what he should have been doing a few days ago, Tony slowly stood. He was going to help the others, but first, he needed to make sure Michelle was alright. He stepped close to her, laid his hand on her shoulder, and murmured, "Did he hurt you last night?"

Michelle was terrified to tell him the truth, but she trusted him. Sadly, she nodded.

Tony frowned and gestured gently toward her, "Your waist?"

Michelle furrowed her brow as she realized how much he had managed to figure out. She dropped her gaze guiltily and murmured, "Yah."

Tony winced and added sympathetically, "Yeah, he's got a helluva grip. I'll get you something for it."

Michelle caught something in his demeanor, and she found some confidence, "Where are you going?"

"To deal with the people who did this."

Michelle shivered at the fury in that nonchalant response.

Tony didn't answer. He patted her on the shoulder and turned to grab some aspirin and water, before setting the pills in her hand. He quietly whispered, "It'll help."

Then he left.

Michelle watched the door long after it had closed before she took the painkillers and waited.

* * *

When Peter finally woke up and didn't move away, Michelle stayed by his side.

The day progressed slowly with little conversation as the Office played in the background, cutting through the quiet and offering some break in the potential tension. Peter knew he should say something to Michelle, but he was still embarrassed from the night before and, for once, he was able to selfishly enjoy the comfort. So, he stayed quiet. Instead, he curled closer and thought about anything other than what had happened. Michelle was thankful for it because it gave her a chance to work up the courage to broach the topic she had been thinking about earlier.

Still, she wasn't going to bring anything up until they were alone.

It took time, but eventually, the others left, begging thin excuses to leave the two to talk.

Still, Michelle hesitated. She swallowed hard before she finally tried, but it came out as more hesitant than she wanted, "Peter, can I talk to you about something?"

Peter had been able to tell she wanted to talk to him about something, he wasn't quite sure why, but it had been an intuition that had settled like a rock in his gut. Now that she had said something, he was terrified of what she was going to say, but he nodded anyway.

Michelle swallowed hard and plunged right in, "I think you need to talk to someone." She watched quietly as his eyes widened before they fell away, and he started to pick at the blanket.

Peter hated the fact that she was even thinking about that. Still, he didn't have an answer, and he tripped over an attempt, "I don't…I can't…I don't want anyone to know that…"

Michelle was emboldened by the fact that he even responded, and she softly pressed, "Know what, Peter?"

Peter looked up then, and he knew she could see the pain and abject fear on his face. Because that's what it was. For as little as he had been hurt in the last few days, he was _still_ terrified it was going end. A painful end that would come with the death of everyone he loved before he slowly bled out on the floor of some castle. He didn't want to tell her anything. He didn't want to say anything to any of them.

Until he did. His eyes were downcast when some long-buried truth bubbled up in his chest, and he blurted out an answer to her question, "How bad it was…"

Michelle's face fell, and she murmured, "Peter…"

Peter's eyes welled, but he didn't cry, he was just exhausted. He watched her before he pressed his head into her shoulder; he didn't want to talk about this. Unfortunately, his mind had other ideas. Without thought, he murmured, "I've never actually been alone…it's scary."

Michelle immediately tried to make it better, "You weren't alone, Peter."

"I was, though…" He answered sharply before calming almost immediately. He murmured, "I knew no one was going to come for me. And I still kind of feel like that's where I am…"

"We were working on it. We were looking for you." Michelle lied. She wasn't sure what made her do it, but she did.

Peter frowned at her, furrowing his brow before his voice took on a disbelieving, authoritative edge, "That's not true. Everyone thought I was dead."

Michelle's eyes widened in horror, and she whispered, "You knew?"

Peter nodded again and whispered, "They showed me the press conference. The one my…dad gave where he talked about…my…death…" Peter's tears finally fell as he ignored her blatant lie and continued, "I thought it was a lie at first…but there's no way they could have gotten all the details right. No one can be that good…I…uhhh…I knew it was my dad. And it made it a lot easier for them to keep lying to me." He buried his head in her shoulder, and his voice was muffled by the fabric when he admitted, "They took everything from me. Everything."

Michelle closed her eyes tight as she tried desperately to think of something to say. She had a hard time with the anger, and she said, "They didn't…they didn't take anything from you. We're here; we have you. We're real, I promise."

Peter sighed, almost deflating into the bed. His gaze flicked across the blankets before he finally settled back on her, a note of frustration in his tone, "Everyone keeps telling me that, but it's not that easy. I can't just tell myself its real. I saw you die. I saw my dad dead. I saw Morgan dead. May. Steve. Pepper. Natasha. Everyone. I saw everyone I loved, die. I can't just shake that, no matter how often people tell me they're real."

Michelle heard the bubbling anger in his voice, and she hurried to end it, "I'm sorry...I'm so, so sorry. I shouldn't have even brought it up. I shouldn't have said anything, I'm sorry."

Peter reacted instinctually to her apology, pulling her closer to ease the guilt. Or at least trying to. As soon as his fingers closed around her waist, Michelle gasped and pulled slightly away from him. That instance of pain immediately redirected his focus, "What's wrong? What'd I do? I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

Michelle recovered quickly and hurriedly squashed his concerns, "It's okay, I promise. It's not a big deal. You just hit a bruise. No big deal."

But even the pain couldn't dull his cleverness, and he asked with a hint of trepidation, "How did you get a bruise on your waist?"

Michelle scoffed and tried to come up with something quickly, but she hated the taste of a lie, and it had already coated her tongue so she couldn't stop herself when she blurted, "Last night, when you hugged me, you squeezed just a little too tight."

Peter's eyes widened, horrified, and he said, "I'm sorry MJ. I hurt you. Oh my god. I hurt you. I'm sorry...I'm so sorry." Peter could feel his chest tightening. This had happened before; he had hurt Michelle. He could hear Vulture's voice in the back of his mind. _If you loved her, you'd let her go_.

Peter's world dropped into a death spiral.

* * *

**Phew...another chapter down. **

**So if I'm being honest, I don't know if I'm going to be as regular with my updates as I have been in the past, but I'm hoping you enjoyed this chapter, and I'll try to be a quick as I can with the next one.**

**Feel free to let me know what you thought in the reviews!**

**I hope you have a wonderful night/day and stay creative!**

**-Lily**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hey everyone!**

**I'm sorry about the long wait! I got caught up working on something of my own and the ideas for this one went a little stale until something hit me the other day. So I want to say thank you to those of you who favorited and followed even through the long wait, it was really nice to see that throughout the last month. **

**I also want to make sure that I give a shout out to: **

** \- the phenomenal carajiggirl, I'm really glad you enjoyed the last chapter, especially with the focus on MJ and Peter - phew :) - I appreciate you saying that and I am actually doing much better now. I will admit, I had some trouble getting back into the story but I think I have a direction now, which is always really nice. I hope you take care too :)**

** \- the fantastic rosesherlock22, Thank you so much for saying that :) I hope you like this chapter!**

**You guys are so awesome and are definitely the reason why I keep writing. I hope this lives up to your expectations! I'm thinking this fic has one maybe two more chapters after this left to wrap it up. **

**So without further ado, **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

Peter yanked his arm free from behind her and winced as he pushed away. His eyes widened, but they fixed on a place on the blanket in front of him. He started to shake, murmuring, "I'm sorry…I'm sorry…oh god, I'm sorry."

Michelle reached forward but was afraid to touch him, and her hands froze in a half-expressed plea for calm. She fought to keep her voice composed when she begged, "No, Peter. Please, don't apologize, it's okay."

Peter's gaze shot up. "No, it's not okay. I hurt you, MJ. That's not okay." His eyes widened, and while he held her gaze, his focus wandered away, "I could…hurt you…without meaning to…I could…I could ki…" Peter swallowed hard on the obvious end to his statement. Before suddenly, his gaze solidified, and he pushed, violently, away from her. Barely holding himself on the edge of the bed, his eyes skittered away nervously.

Michelle sat back in stunned silence, and she whispered, "You wouldn't..."

But that quiet declaration caught Peter's attention, and his sharp eyes fixed on her again. His voice was steady even as his darkened face scrunched around his words, "MJ, I can't be with you anymore."

Michelle immediately shook her head, and she tried desperately to squash the irrational fury that bubbled up at his decision. He didn't mean it. Of course, he didn't mean that. Still, even with that conviction, Michelle abruptly recoiled and was unsuccessful in keeping the anger out of her tone when she sharply asked, "What? What are you talking about, Peter?"

Peter swallowed his anxiety and pressed forward because he knew this would be best for _her_. A reality he had to hold on to because the decision would kill him. Resignation colored his response, "It's not safe for you to be around me. I'm only going to get you hurt or killed, and I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something happened to you. You already admitted I hurt you when I was having a nightmare." Then he fearfully added, "I knocked my dad out the other day. I won't be able to predict it or stop it. And the people I fight…" He trailed off and then swallowed hard before he looked her in the eyes again, "I'll only get you killed, and so we can't be together anymore." Tears pooled in his eyes before he whispered, "I'm sorry."

Michelle's brow furrowed, and she demanded an answer, "Where is this coming from?" Of course, she knew where it was coming from, but she needed him to explain what the hell he was thinking.

Peter bit his lip and shook his head, "I can't be selfish anymore. This life, it's dangerous for me…but…also for you. Pepper's gotten hurt because of dad's obsession with Iron Man, and I can't…I can't let that happen to you."

All the anger Michelle had been trying to cap bubbled to the surface, and she spat, "Pepper and Tony are your examples? They're married, _and_ they have a kid." Michelle couldn't help but resort to sarcasm because that was how she dealt with Peter when he was being irrational and dumb.

But this wasn't her Peter.

Peter started to pick at the blanket in front of him, cowed by her anger only enough to avoid her eyes. He had lost a great deal, but his stubbornness was too much a part of him, and he defended his reasoning, "I'm just saying, dad was lucky that Pepper wasn't killed when Killian kidnapped her, or when he attacked their house, or when Obadiah tried to kill her, or...really...every other time." Then his gaze snapped to her's, and he uttered with total conviction, "I don't want you to even have to deal with the thought of that so I think it would be best if we weren't together anymore."

Michelle's stuttering brain managed to force her to switch tactics, and instead of arguing with the obstinate spider, she tersely asked, "Peter, what is going on? Why do you think this is a good idea? Why do you think you're being selfish?" Just to drive home her point, she reached out carefully and laid her hand on his arm.

He immediately threaded his fingers through hers.

Tears sprang into the wounded hero's eyes as he looked at Michelle and, paradoxically to his insistence, his hand closed a little tighter around the one she had laid on his arm. He didn't want to tell her what he had seen, didn't want her to imagine that, but at the same time, if it kept her safe, if it scared her away, maybe he should. Peter licked his dry lips before he met her eyes and whispered, "I saw you die." The hand gripping hers tightened to the point where it was slightly painful.

"Peter…" Michelle whispered, resisting the urge to pull the hand he was crushing away, for whatever reason, even given what they were talking about, he needed to do that, so she let him.

"Multiple times. You fell, were crushed, obliterated, beaten, and the worst part is I know I forgot some of what they showed me, even though I can't get away from it. I keep reliving how painful it was for you...and I can't take it." Peter whispered before he looked back up at her. His voice held a whispered conviction that shook his core, "I just…I need to protect you."

Michelle watched him and tried to calculate a response. He had been in danger for as long as she had known him, and their situation hadn't changed, which meant his interpretation had. She had seen Mysterio's illusions for herself, knew how convincing they were. So, instead of attempting to convince him otherwise, she decided on blunt honesty. "I'm not leaving you."

Michelle watched his eyes widen before she pressed her surprise, "They hurt you, showed you things that could never happen unless we stop trusting each other and the people around us. So, I'm staying, and I'm going to make sure that you're okay. And when you can move past the horrible things those bastards showed you, I'll be here. And then I'll be here long after that. I'm taking the choice out of your hands."

Michelle looked him squarely in the eyes, inwardly enjoying the awed expression she saw on his face. At least he was listening. She kept going, "I'm your partner, Peter. Partners don't just quit. They fight for each other. This is me fighting."

Peter's tears quietly started to fall before his face crumpled farther, and he begged, "Michelle, please…I can't…"

She had him, and she knew it. "I know you can't. And that's okay. That's why I'm here. Just like you've been there for me every time I couldn't do it." Michelle leaned forward and looked him in the eyes, making sure he saw the conviction behind hers. When he blinked, wide-eyed, she decided to press for just a little more, "What happened, Peter?"

Somewhere buried in the back of his mind, Peter had known he wasn't going to win that argument. And his selfish side was thankful for her strength and conviction, but even that couldn't patch up the confusion tearing at his mind. Still, something about her gaze made it seem okay to speak, to at least share something. He dropped his attention, conceding the point but, it was still as though every word was torn out of his throat. His voice cracked when he admitted, "Every time I close my eyes…" He trailed off when in direct contradiction, he closed his eyes in pain before he forced out, "They told me you would be better off without me…That I would get you killed. And then they killed you…I just…no matter how many times I see you…or tell myself you're still alive…I can't get that image out of my head. Every time I close my eyes…" He choked on his words and buried his head in his hands.

Michelle stayed quiet, instinctually knowing this was not the time to push. She gave him space, determined to be there when he needed help putting himself back together.

When he finally looked up at her again, he admitted, "I've put you through so much already, why would you want to stay with someone like me? I can't be worth this." Then before she could say anything else, he hurriedly added, "You can keep the ring, sell it, do what you want with it, but I can't keep putting you in danger. I need to protect you." Some part of him was hoping that if he sandwiched that request with his imagined reality, it would work, and she would just leave him for someone less broken.

Michelle held his gaze. She got it. She couldn't fully understand his pain, but she instinctively understood the need to ensure his safety. She latched onto that truth and threw it back at him with ferocity, ignoring the rest of what he had said. "And I need to protect you." She looked him dead in the eyes before she continued, "I'm not leaving you, and we're not breaking up. It's not happening over this Peter, it's just not. This is a decision you're making because of something someone else did, we're not ending our relationship based on _someone else's_ sick input." She scooted closer to him, carefully pressing shoulder to shoulder. "I'm staying with you until you drive me insane, but I'm not leaving before that."

Peter watched her. He knew his face was a swirling mix of horror, relief, and pride, but he couldn't quite form the right words to convey any of that. Instead, he leaned sideways and pressed his head into her shoulder. When her hands came up around his back, he sniffled a few times before he started to cry.

* * *

Tony squared his shoulders before he stepped into the room with the doctor.

He was the only one Natasha hadn't been able to talk to.

Apparently, he had been so incredibly distraught by not only the loss of his arms but the audacity of the Avengers to refuse to allow him to rebuild them, that he had been nearly nonresponsive since they had thrown him in a cell.

Tony wanted to take a run at him.

Natasha approved. Tony tried to ignore the wicked smile on her face, even as he reveled in the satisfaction that built in his own gut.

But Steve had rejected the idea. Only agreeing when Tony and Natasha promised not to be in the same room at the same time.

So that left Tony flanked by Steve, Nebula, and Wanda. He let his mind wander to their presence, he still wasn't quite sure if they were there for him or for Ock, but subconsciously knew the answer as he fingered the portable weapon in his pocket. He had also been told he wasn't allowed to take any of his equipment. Thankfully, Steve still wasn't as current as he wanted to be on Stark Tech.

Tony smirked when he saw the broken man on the floor at the back of the cell. But instead of addressing him, he pulled out a chair and sat down, stretching his bad leg in front of him to look as nonchalant as possible. And be able to keep his hand in his pocket just in case.

When Doc Ock didn't acknowledge him, Tony started to tap his wedding ring against the metal table. After a few minutes, the man looked up at him with a deranged snarl. Then his eyes widened in recognition, and he spat, "You."

Tony smirked, his hand pausing in midair before he lightly laid it back on the table and mocked, "Yes. Me." He didn't move from his reclined position, but he did feel the tension radiating from the three behind him.

Doc Ock's gaze was fully fixed on Tony, and with what looked like the conviction of sheer loathing, he forced himself to his feet. The dead arms dragged behind him, hanging off his back in a sad mockery of how far the brilliant doctor had fallen. He stalked toward Tony, but instead of sitting, leaned over and planted his hands on the table.

Tony looked up at him with the same impassive smirk.

Doc Ock snarled, "You think I'm just going to tell you everything, don't you?"

Tony raised his eyebrow and shrugged but didn't say anything.

"You think that if you sit there and mock me, that I'm suddenly going to give everything up? Well, the other one tried that. I'm not giving you everything."

Tony taunted with a smugness he assumed would annoy, "Really, because that's not what she told me. See, I was under the impression that you were so wounded by the loss of your…what are those?" Tony gestured to the dead, mechanical appendages, "Arms?" When Doc Ock sneered, Tony shrugged and continued, "That you haven't been talking to anyone. About anything. It's sad, really, I read some of your papers, the ones Peter had for class, you're a pioneer…or at least you were." Looking at him sidelong, Tony pressed just a little more, "It's a shame, really. But that's what happens when you let your invention control you."

Doc Ock sputtered before he added with anger, "Control me? They don't control me, we work together. You can't see the promise. You don't understand the ground-breaking work I was doing…we were doing before you coaxed him away."

Tony had to hold back the anger that bristled when Doc Ock hinted at Peter. Still, he had him talking, he needed to let it play out.

The arrogance was on full display when Doc Ock straightened his spine and started to grandstand, "What we were working would have eclipsed everything Stark Industries has created. We would have actually been helping people. Creating technology and techniques that would save those who didn't have the luxury of billions of dollars to their name. Or to their father's name." Then he dropped off his pedestal and snapped at Tony, "We were almost there, he was almost done with you. Then…then we could have kept building, kept improving. We could have saved the world."

Tony's mind spun, and his hand closed around the thin cylinder in his pocket.

But before he could ask anything, Doc Ock kept talking, "We would have left the world a better place than you ever could. See Tony, there are advantages to being known as more than the Merchant of Death."

His control on his anger slipped, and Tony suddenly sat forward, his hands landing hard on the table. The metal implement he had closed in his fist rang against the metal counter, and out of the corner of his eye, he caught Steve's abrupt movement. Still, he couldn't bear it much thought before he snapped, "I don't do that anymore. And it doesn't matter what you want, Peter's going to leave this world a better place without you leaching off him."

"Me leaching?" Doc Ock shot back. "I'm not leaching anything; he was my partner. My protégé. I treated him that way, I didn't exploit him." The man straightened again, his head squaring on his shoulders as he tried to display his shattered strength.

Unfortunately, Tony was far rawer than he knew, but it was too late to control his response, and he spat, "I don't exploit him! He's free to work on whatever he wants with whatever resources I can provide."

Doc Ock scoffed, "Yeah, as long as it improves your bottom line."

"No, as long as he enjoys it." Tony shot back, far more upset than he should be. He caught Wanda twisting her wrists off to one side, but he had more important things to worry about than her.

The scoff twisted into a condescending smirk, "You're telling me you give all your interns that freedom?"

"No. But they're not all Peter!" Tony snapped. He wrapped his hand tight around the cylinder in an attempt to control his reaction, this was not what he wanted. He had to press his bad hand against his thigh to keep it from shaking.

Doc Ock's smirk shifted into a smile, "Let me guess, he makes you money? He's proven how creative he is, so you give him just enough to keep him working and believing he has the freedom of no one else. You just tell yourself that you give him real freedom, but it's all exploitation."

Tony snarled but something he was doing worked. Instead, he turned it on Ock, taking a guess as to what he actually wanted, "At least I earned his trust. You kidnapped and tortured him to...what...?" Tony grasped at a straw, "Force him to fix your equipment? Produce the breakthroughs you promised? Make you a legend?"

"No." Doc Ock spat, thrusting his finger toward Tony, "I agreed to help them because I could get him away from you."

Tony threw his hand forward, palm up, and retorted, "He was dying! You were going to kill him. What if you had killed him, what would you have then?"

"Why do you care?" Doc Ock spat, completely glossing over that truth.

"He's my son! I care." Tony snarled, pressing to his feet and leaning forward on the table threateningly. Only then did it dawn on him what this anger was. Jealously.

But the truth sucked the air out of the room. Tony sharply inhaled, his eyes wide as he fell back into his chair. That was not at all how he wanted it to go. He had to press his hand down hard on his leg to avoid the visible shaking.

At least the smug arrogance was replaced by confusion when Doc Ock stuttered, "Your…son?"

Tony swallowed hard, and his voice cracked when he admitted, "Yes, he's my son." He flinched. And then he inwardly cursed his anger and squared his shoulders before he tried to take back the direction of the conversation. He coughed down the embarrassment and authoritatively growled, "And you nearly killed him so you can imagine how close I am to shoving one of those dead arms down your throat."

Doc Ock finally sat, and his arms fell limply to his side.

Tony looked down his nose at him, trying to figure out precisely what to do with the man in front of him. He wanted pain, revenge, but those were all selfish. What he needed, what Peter _needed_, were answers. So, swallowing down the vicious anger and hate crawling up his throat, Tony compromised. His voice was even when he promised, "Look, I can help you with those." Tony gestured at the metallic arms before he continued, "But you have to tell me how they did it. If you care about them at all, if you ever cared about him, you'll help me protect him. Because regardless of what you wanted to be the outcome, he nearly died." Tony shrugged, and the tears sprang to his eyes as he murmured, "And I will do whatever it takes to protect him. Even work with you."

Ock watched Tony with a predatory gaze. But then eventually, Doc Ock murmured a question, "You'll help me fix the arms?"

Tony nodded and added, "Just tell me what you did to him."

Doc Ock narrowed his eyes and spat, "I don't trust you. "

"You don't have to trust me, but…" Tony leaned forward, "Believe me when I tell you I will peel those arms away from your spine as slowly as I can manage." Tony's voice slipped into a growl as he threatened, "Tell me, if they're dead, do you still feel their pain?" Then he lunged forward, releasing one of the small metal discs in his hand. When it landed on the arm closest to him, it latched on and, with the press of a button, electrified.

Immediately, Doc Ock screamed and tumbled off his chair. In a flash, Tony was on his feet and standing over the writhing doctor. He leaned down into his face, "Give me a reason to kill you. Please. Give me a reason." He heard Steve and the others move in behind him so Tony sat back, and promised, "If you give me what I want, I'll help you fix the arms, but if you screw me, I'll tear each off your back before detaching that housing with malice."

Ock's voice was pained when he whined, "Why even give me a choice then?"

Tony leaned down into Doc Ock's face, "Because he _matters._" Tony watched him struggle briefly before he snarled, "I'll give you two days." He stood as abruptly as he could before he stumbled forward, bumping his leg into the table and stomping out of the room in anger.

He had other places to be, and he couldn't handle being in the room any longer.

Tony should have gone to Strange. Or Natasha. Or Pepper. But he just couldn't. And he hated himself for it. But regardless of a self-loathing, he hadn't felt since he had first figured out where his weapons were really being used, Tony stepped up to the window outside Peter's room. He peeked inside and saw Michelle holding Peter carefully, but her gaze was fixed on the ceiling. The overwhelming need to be there forced Tony inside.

Michelle's surprised attention was his as soon as he pressed the door open. And he saw her eyes soften as she realized who it was. Tony padded over to them and realized that Peter was somehow sleeping. He quietly asked, "How is he?"

Michelle looked up at him, anger and fear warring in her eyes when she admitted, "He tried to get me to leave him." Then she flippantly added, "So, not well."

Tony cocked his head but ultimately nodded in acceptance of her explanation. It wasn't a surprise per se, but it definitely wasn't the angle he assumed Peter would take. Still, he didn't have a response, so he laid his hand on Michelle's shoulder instead.

Michelle glanced at the hand before looking up at him, "He said they killed me. In front of him. That I would be better off without him."

Tony quietly admitted, "It's something he's always been afraid of…"

"What?" Michelle admitted quietly. Of course, she knew that was true, but to hear Tony's voice, it was disconcerting.

Tony sighed, "Do you remember graduation?" When she nodded, Tony continued, "I told you then that he wouldn't ever tell you everything. That it would be too terrifying for him to, and if he did that, he would never be able to protect himself? Well, one of the things he always worried about…is you." Tony shrugged, "He didn't tell you because he knew it would piss you off. But MJ, I came to get you for a reason." Tony's gaze dropped to Peter's slack expression before he quietly admitted, "He wants to protect you. Above so much else, he wants to protect you."

Michelle was a little taken aback by Tony's tone, and she couldn't keep the bite out of her tone when she asked, "Are you saying I should listen to him? That I should leave?"

"Absolutely not." Tony shot back, his gaze snapping to hers when he swore, "I'm saying you should ignore him and make sure that he doesn't get himself killed, regardless of what he tells you."

Michelle looked up at him in surprise, and there were a few heartbeats between them before a smirk broke across her face. Then she whispered, "He'd hate you for saying that right now, you know."

"Only for a bit. Deep down, he'd know I'm right." Then Tony's expression slipped into a pensive mask and swore, "You're a shield, MJ. The same way May is, the same way the suits are, the same way I try to be. He _needs_ you, and he would do anything to avoid hurting you, and that leads him to say stupid things. But the best thing you can do right now is to ignore him."

Michelle smiled despite herself at his comments. But there was a limit to the sincerity she could handle when she was as raw as she currently was, and she needed to redirect the conversation, asking, "Did you find anything new?"

Tony narrowed his eyes and filled in her train of thought, "You mean with Doc Ock?"

Michelle nodded.

Tony couldn't miss Michelle pull Peter tighter when he uttered the name, and again, his anger flared. Only for him to squash it back down. Instead, he muttered, "Unfortunately, not much. He cared about Peter, in some twisted way, but it wasn't enough for him to just give me what I want. I gave him an ultimatum; he has to tell me everything in two days or…I don't know I kind of left that up in the air."

Michelle understood his anger and smiled sickly before she added, "What do you think he's going to do?"

Tony shrugged as he fell back into the chair next to the bed. There was no sense in trying to figure out what a deranged person would do, the only thing he could hope was that the arms meant more to Ock than Tony's suits meant to him.

* * *

Tony was startled out of sleep by something.

His feet tumbled off the leg rest he had used, and his heels hit the tile hard as the motion rotated him in the seat, his eyes snapping open moments before his hand slipped up to the back of his neck. He hadn't meant to sleep in Peter's room again, but he had passed out, and apparently, someone hadn't wanted to wake him. He groaned when he realized he would have to go back and talk to Doc Ock today, maybe that was the impetus for just letting him sleep?

But his internal dialogue derailed when the sound echoed through the room again and relief coursed through him when he realized it wasn't Peter who had woken him. Instead, it was a light knocking at the door. Tony's rubbed at the sore, kinked muscles on his neck as he tried to sit up without fully wrenching his back. Tossing a glance at the pair still asleep on the bed, Tony was pleasantly surprised and hurried to the door. Tugging it open with just enough space to stick his head through, and with a flippant remark already planned, Tony paused when he realized there was no one there.

At least someone not as tall as the Avengers. But a slight, expectant cough caught his attention and Tony dropped his gaze about a foot before he saw Morgan staring up at him. "Morgan?" Tony quizzically asked. They had been keeping the boy away from the room. They told him it was because Peter was too injured to see anyone, but the unspoken reason was that Tony was terrified of what Peter would do if Morgan surprised him.

His blue eyes fixed on Tony's, and he demanded, "I wanna see him, dad."

Tony watched the kid who was suddenly so much older than he should be, and he sighed, dropping his gaze. "Morgan…" He had no idea where to go with it, though, and he lamely stuttered, "He's not himself."

Morgan's face scrunched in determination, and he argued, "But I still want to see him."

There was some of Morgan's stubbornness. Still, Tony pressed back against it, even though he knew he was on the wrong side of this, "You just can't be in here right now, Morgan. Peter's still recovering."

Morgan shook his head, "No, dad. You can't keep saying that. I did what you told me to, I stayed away. But he's been home for nearly three weeks. I want to see him, because he's not dead, dad. You told me he was dead, and then you told me he was alive, and..." Morgan raised his voice, "And...I still haven't seen him!"

Tony sighed but saw the determination in his eyes and realized that he had probably held off as long as he could. Tony closed his eyes in frustration but relented, "You can't touch him, especially if he's not awake yet."

Morgan nodded a bit more emphatically than the maturity he had just shown should have allowed. And by the time Tony belatedly opened the door, he was bouncing on his toes.

Michelle was awake by the time Tony shut the door behind them. As soon as she saw Morgan, her widened eyes met Tony's. The older man shrugged but stepped purposely forward and laid his hands on Morgan's shoulders. Leaning down, he murmured, "See, he's okay, he's just been sleeping a lot. It's the reason why you haven't been able to be in here."

Morgan watched the pair with tears in his eyes, and against Tony's apparent wishes, he struggled out from under Tony's hands and pulled himself up on the bed much quicker than Tony could catch him. Michelle leaned forward, jostling Peter in an attempt to keep Morgan out of reach. And she quickly ordered, "Mo, just stay where you are."

But unsurprisingly, the abrupt motion and clamor shook Peter awake. He blinked owlishly, his gaze darting from Michelle to Tony before they landed on his younger brother.

* * *

Peter was jostled out of sleep, but, for once, it wasn't scary. For the first time in a long time, he just felt like he had woken up. He still hurt a bit but there was a deep, grounding, sense of safety sitting on his chest that hadn't been there until...well he wasn't actually sure when it started but this was the first time he really felt its pull. So as he owlishly blinked at the people he expected, he had a chance to gather his bearings, and his gaze fell on someone he hadn't seen in what felt like years. It was like a lightning bolt shot through him, demanding action. Peter's voice cracked when he whispered, "Morgan?"

Morgan smiled broadly at the recognition and started to move forward before he stopped, seemingly remembering what Tony had told him. Instead, he awkwardly stuttered to a stop, his hand falling back into his lap as he just nodded.

Without a thought, Peter lurched forward and grabbed Morgan's shoulders, pulling him bodily forward into his chest.

Michelle leaned forward and tried to stop Peter the moment she felt him move, but she was too late.

Tony freaked out at the abnormal reaction, unsure of what Peter was thinking, but all he could do was lunged toward them, and demand Peter's attention, "Pete!"

But both Michelle and Tony watched as their displaced fear melted away when Morgan slipped out of Peter's grasp and instead settled comfortably next to him, pressed close to his brother's side.

Peter and Morgan both seemed to miss the fear permeating the room as the boy looked up at his older brother and wrapped his arms tight around his waist before he whispered, "I missed you." Morgan tucked in closer to Peter's side, snuggling in tight and unconsciously daring anyone to pull him away. Peter, for all that was still confused, managed to close his eyes and rest his chin on Morgan's head. And without a conscious realization, Peter was finally able to free the last of the concealed memories from that rusted box.

Peter fought passed the lump in his throat and whispered, "I missed you too."

* * *

**Phew! Well, that's all for now! I hope it was worth the wait.**

**As always, feel free to let me know what you thought in the reviews, I do always love seeing those emails :)**

**I hope you have a wonderful night/day and stay creative!**

**-Lily**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hey everyone!**

**Thank you to those who favorited and followed the last chapter. It's so heart-warming to read :) I also want to say thank you to:**

** \- the exceptionally xsheepix, I had to write him back in! I just figured it would be a bit too soon to throw him in anywhere else. Thank you for always commenting and being awesome! I hope you like this chapter too!**

** \- the remarkable judithalex4099, I'm really glad you enjoyed that ending, I actually had a lot of fun writing that :) I was actually thinking about that ;) too so I hope you like this chapter! **

**You guys are definitely a reason why I write and I truly appreciate it because it gives me a chance to get out some of my own frustrations and worries.**

**Well, that's all I have for now, so without further ado,**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Peter watched Tony and Michelle out of the corner of his eye. Both were holding their shoulders rigid, and their eyes constantly flicked over every slight move he made. Morgan was chatting about something, but Peter was only able to pay that half a mind, as much as he wanted to give it his full attention. Instead, he was trying to deal with the truth that was radiating off his family. They were afraid he would hurt his brother.

That cut deep.

Of course, it had been a possibility he had been afraid of too, but to see it reflected in the expressions of the people he trusted implicitly was…painful.

But it also made him…angry?

For all the relief seeing Morgan had brought, there was still a tight coil of anger solidifying in his chest.

It wasn't directed at them, he was nearly positive, because he knew he was pissed at himself. He wasn't allowed to be a threat to the people he loved. Regardless of what happened to him. But in that reflection, he finally reconciled something he had known but hadn't been able to truly think about until now. Unfortunately, once he sussed it out, he couldn't stop the slow roll of reality.

Since he had woken up, he had hurt multiple people, a few of them significantly.

He had to have given Tony at least a mild concussion.

Michelle had some pretty substantial bruises.

Steve, Bucky, and Nebula had all been on the receiving end of one of his nightmares. He had even gone after Strange at one point. But each time, in the ensuing aftermath, he had promised himself that he was just trying to deal with the situation. That he would work through it as soon as he got better. That he would convince himself that the world the Six had created was false. But seeing the look on Tony and Michelle's faces made it evident that mindset wasn't working.

He hadn't left his room since he had woken up. He had barely moved out of the bed, and as he subconsciously shifted his feet and flexed his fingers, he realized that he was probably healed enough to at least start trying.

Fry hadn't said anything about getting him out of bed, and he assumed that was because he wasn't really ready. The heaviness in his lungs had just subsided a few days ago, and even the tenderness of his ribs was still there if he shifted the wrong way (or if someone leaned in, in the wrong direction). But he had learned to live with pain a long time ago, and a growing part of him wondered why he hadn't tried to get up, why he was lying still, and letting the world shift around him.

Letting his family continue to worry silently.

And again, his thoughts circled back to his family.

He had seen the deep bags under May's eyes. Michelle's eyes. Tony's eyes.

Their worry was for more than just his health and it was only then that he realized how big of a threat he was because in between those nightmares and flashbacks, Peter finally understood why he had hurt more than just Tony, May, or Michelle. It was because there was always one other Avenger in the room who could control his strength.

That was a crushing blow.

_No one_ trusted him.

He felt the weight of that truth and that guilt a thousand-fold because regardless of what his confused mind made up, he instinctually relied on his family more thoroughly and more wholly than he ever had before. He had drifted into the middle of a storm-tossed ocean, and they had been the only thing keeping him breaking the surface long enough to take a deep breath. But he was a burden without benefit.

And he needed to stop being that.

Without conscious direction, Peter dug into the course of events that drove him here. He knew he needed to start at the beginning to fix this even though he was terrified to do so. But he had been afraid for long enough and it was time to face at least some of his issues.

So, he half-listened to Morgan, and he tried to figure out what had led to this.

He finally decided to take back what the world had ripped from him.

* * *

Peter was so focused on figuring out his own problems that he missed exactly why Michelle pulled Morgan off the bed until the little boy turned back to Peter and asked, "Do you want to come get lunch, Peter?"

Peter finally looked up at the hopeful face and immediately felt bad for how little attention he had paid to his brother over the last however long he had been here. Still, he had been putting things together and was selfishly thankful for the chance to get him out of the room. All that flashed through his mind in a moment before he distractedly answered, "I don't know that I can right now…I think I need to talk to T…dad..real quick."

Tony's attention snapped to Peter, a quizzical look on his face when he caught what sounded like a slip.

Michelle noticed something in Peter's voice too, and she immediately moved to help give him whatever space he apparently needed, "Mo and I'll go grab something to eat and bring it back down here."

Peter shot her an exhausted, sad simper. They might not trust him but he was thankful they still had his back.

Michelle nodded and casually pushed Morgan into the hallway.

When the door shut, a tense silence settled over the room. Tony was leaned forward on his chair, his elbows resting on his knees as he silently encouraged Peter to just tell him what was going on so he didn't have to push, didn't have to ask. But Peter just stared at the wall across from him, his hands laid on the blankets in front of him and his posture was rigid.

The seconds ticked by painfully slow until Tony sucked it up, and nervously asked, "What's goin' on Pete?"

Peter's gaze stayed fixed on the wall across from him. He let the silence stretch for a bit longer before, finally, he murmured, "You thought I was going to hurt him." It should have been a question, but he never lilted the end.

Tony heaved out his breath and murmured in relief, "I wasn't sure…you were asleep…" He couldn't give Peter a straight answer because he felt so guilty at his own concern.

Peter started to twist his hands in his lap, trying to gather his thoughts, before he looked over at Tony and whispered, "Why?"

Tony's gaze snapped to Peter's in surprise. He wasn't sure what he meant, and that was demonstrated in his stuttered answer, "I don't…I don't know what you mean, Pete." Then he took the usual route he used when he was a bit nervous, he talked and tried to reason out the answer. "I just…you know why…we had to make sure..."

Peter nodded for only a few seconds before he cut him off, "That's not what I meant. I know why you kept Morgan away from me." Then he whispered, "I kind of wish you had kept MJ and May away from me…" He dropped his head into his hands and admitted defeatedly, "I think I need to talk to someone about this." He added with a sigh, "I have to do something to deal with this."

Tony frowned at his son, his eyes welled up, but all he could do was nod. He watched as Peter's posture collapsed and he realized what the thought process had been to get here. Peter had known he was dangerous, but to see it play out as obviously as it had with Morgan had to have been incredibly painful. Tony couldn't handle the expression of his pain, and he slipped forward onto the bed. Only to be stopped by Peter's suddenly outstretched arm.

Peter murmured into his hand, "I can't deal with that right now. You can't…touch me."

Tony immediately threw up his hands in concession and sat back in his chair before he hurriedly added, "Whatever you need, Pete. Whatever I can do."

The pieces that he had put together before bubbled up again and instead of just letting the conversation drop, Peter's voice slipped into a haunted tone, "Do you know what they did?"

Tony nodded, unwilling to lie, but he still encouraged Peter to explain, "Do you want to tell me what they did?" Talking had always helped Peter in the past.

Peter's attention turned to Tony before he shrugged and almost nonchalantly explained, "Really, it wasn't anything new. They played the same tune they've always played. They hit me. Broke my bones. Told me I would get everyone around me killed. Then Mysterio killed…everyone…he knew I loved." Peter chuckled dryly, "Do you know how terrifying your mask is when it's broken and crumpled? Or how jarring it is to see Cap's shield broken?"

Tony swallowed hard when he heard that question. But he refused to stop Peter.

Peter's gaze hardened, "But it's...not what they showed me that scared me. It's the ideas they beat into my head. I still flinch sometimes when I hear your voice. But then I also have a moment of fear when I don't know where you are. I just get so confused." That hardness slipped, and a hint of vulnerability edged in when he accused, "You hurt me, dad."

Tony's gaze widened, and he immediately moved to apologize.

But Peter stopped him, "I don't just mean the times they pretended to be you. Those hurt, but I think I can deal with that." Peter's tears started to fall, and he whispered, "What they did wasn't the worst thing. The worst thing was that you left me there. Alone."

Tony immediately started to shake his head and hurriedly defended himself, "I didn't mean to, Pete. I really didn't."

Peter's vulnerability was suddenly shielded when he pushed his accusations, "But even if you thought I was dead, why did you wait so long to go after the people who killed me?" There was no pause to let Tony answer, and Peter's allegations built with each word, "I swore to them, I swore to myself that even if what they told me was true, that you would come after them for revenge…And then you didn't." When he was finished, his eyes were dry.

His gaze fully met Tony's, revealing the comprehensive depth of Tony's betrayal, "I held on for as long as I could. You know I tried to escape on my own? Kraven caught me and beat me for it. He left me in the snow after I passed out. And then once they finally dragged me back inside, they gave me a blanket. That's it, a blanket. I kept going by telling myself it wasn't that bad, that you were coming, that I could hold on that long. And then they came back, and they beat me again. And again. And again. Eventually, I just couldn't wait anymore."

Peter's voice dripped with disdain as he laid out the crux of the problem almost clinically, "You know the worst part? I don't totally know when I gave up, but I remember what it felt like when I _knew_ I was alone. When I knew that under all the fear and the pain, the people I _depended_ _on_...my _family_...weren't going to show up." His gaze sliced when he added, "I wanted to die. I remember feeling disappointed when I woke up in the morning."

Peter saw the stricken look on Tony's face deepen with every new admission. Rationally, he knew it couldn't have all been Tony's fault, and that there had to be a good reason that kept him away. But at the same time, the betrayal that wounded had been Tony's, and Peter wanted him to know it. So, while a part of him tried to soften the blow by pulling the others into it, "And it wasn't just you. I know that, it was all the Avengers." The betrayed feeling burning through his soul forced him to double down, "But not seeing them didn't hurt quite as much. It _hurt_ when _you_ didn't come."

Tony didn't know what to say. He couldn't wrap his head around what he was hearing, and the only response he could muster was to whisper, "Peter…" He trailed away because he had no answers, he itched to explain and make it better, but he didn't know how. He desperately needed Peter to tell him how.

Peter watched the war in Tony's expression, and finally, he scrubbed his hand across his eyes, huffed his shoulders forward, and hinted at a place to start an explanation, "I just want to know why you left me there."

Tony's face scrunched in poorly concealed sorrow before he whispered, "I was trying to do what you would have done…"

Peter knitted his browed in confusion, "What?"

Tony leaned forward imploringly, "The Guardians…they came looking for you a few days after we buried you. They needed your expertise for a problem so, when you weren't there, I was the only other one who could help. I didn't know what else to do, Natasha and MJ were working on finding them and I just…I wasn't handling…" But Tony seemed to think better of that vein of conversation and instead amended, "I tried to do what you would have done." He finished up lamely.

Despite his anger and betrayal, Peter felt a little of his old curiosity building, and he couldn't keep it out of his voice when he asked, "What were they working on?"

It buoyed Tony's spirits to hear something closer to his son's reaction, and he hurried to explain, "A time dilation field. You would have liked it. There were these little creatures – they were these weird armored things and bred like tribbles - that had taken over this planet. The Guardians needed help dealing with it." Tony shrugged before he elaborated, "Apparently, these things would have forced every other creature off the planet, or they would have killed everyone. I just…I knew you would have gone if you had been here."

Tony knew that wasn't all, though, and he finally confessed, "I also…needed to get away, Pete. I couldn't handle you being dead, so when the opportunity came up, it was hard to turn it down. I'm not proud of it, but I thought if I could help someone you would have wanted to, then it was almost like you weren't really gone."

Peter's face shifted into a pained grimace, "But that doesn't explain why you left me for so long."

Tony's expression fell somehow farther, and he winced when he explained, "Time dilation, remember? We felt like we were only gone for a few days, but it turned out that the field had expanded farther than we thought, and we were gone for nearly a month. I'm sorry, Pete. I am so eternally, unconditionally, sorry. I know I can't make this right, and if you can't forgive me, I understand, but I need you to believe me when I say I did not leave you by choice." The fierceness was clear in his voice when he swore, "If I had known…" Tony let the implications hang in the room as his hands dropped down to his sides.

Peter watched Tony's unquestionably, honest expression. It was obvious that what he was saying was true, but it just wasn't enough to squash his pain. Tony was begging Peter to forgive him, but no matter how badly he wanted to, how ready he was to let go of everything, he couldn't. Peter murmured, "Can you…uhh…can you leave me alone? Please?"

Tony nodded. His eyes welled with tears, and his voice choked when he capitulated, "I…umm…yeah, of course." Without another word, Tony stood woodenly and stepped toward the door. Looking away from the bed, he asked, "Do you want me to get someone to sit with you?"

"No," Peter answered.

"Okay." Tony pulled the door open before he hung his head and said, "I'm sorry for what I did, Pete." Before waiting for an answer he wasn't sure he could handle, Tony stepped in the hall and pulled the door closed behind him.

And his world cracked.

It felt almost physical when the anger, and the fear, and the fierce, burning hatred blended with his embarrassment, and self-loathing before it roared to the surface.

Suddenly, he needed an outlet. Tony stared straight ahead as that entire inadequate conversation replayed again. Only then did his hatred whisper a name. And violent, vicious rage became his overwhelming emotion because it offered a direction.

* * *

How he got to the door without anyone stopping him or asking what was going on, Tony would never be able to explain. But as his gauntleted hand landed on the lock, he felt a surge of sickening pleasure when he tore it free.

Tony was done not having what he wanted.

Mysterio looked up as the door shuddered open as if it was about to be torn from the wall. He fixed his annoyingly wide smile on whoever was approaching, only to slip when he caught Tony's possessed gaze. His voice held a shaky detachment when he accommodatingly asked, "What can I do for you, Tony?"

But Tony didn't want anything Mysterio could give him willingly. He just wanted physical pain. So, for once, Tony didn't say anything. He simply stalked forward, giving his suit a chance to build a second metallic sleeve over his free arm before a third segment of his armor crawled up his bad leg and augmented his movement.

Mysterio seemed to sense something was wrong because the smile finally dropped, and he scrambled to his feet, his arms automatically up in front of him as if he was attempting to stave off an unspoken threat. He started talking, his voice was faster than the casual tone he had used since they captured him, "Look, Tony, I already told her everything I know. It wasn't me that started this, it was Ock. I just went along with it."

Tony snarled and lurched forward, driving his gauntleted fist into Mysterio's stomach. He gave him a chance to stand, but when he wasn't fast enough, Tony grabbed his hair and yanked his head upright. Holding him up, Tony murderously spat, "I'm done with your bullshit."

Mysterio's eyes darted to the door behind Tony as his hands pushed uselessly at Tony's chest.

Tony saw the direction of his gaze and continued with a smirk, his voice a mocking guffaw, "No one's coming. No one knows I'm here. And I'm done letting anyone protect you." He yanked Mysterio's head up farther and slammed his fist squarely into his face. Tony kept going, "I don't give a shit anymore."

He felt the reverberation of bone on metal when he sunk another blow into Mysterio's cheek and continued, "We've spent so much fucking time trying to figure out how you did it. How you mimicked him, faked his death, but you know what I finally realized?"

Tony drove his fist into Mysterio's stomach this time. The singular hit doubled him over, and after he spat a glob of red-tinged mucus on the flood, he struggled to catch his breath.

Tony was annoyed at how long it took for the man to recover, so he wrenched Mysterio's hair up, demanding the attention he wanted. Tony was almost ashamed of the vile satisfaction that shot through him when Mysterio's fear-filled gaze met his. But Tony had what he wanted, so he snarled, "If you're dead, there's no reason to worry about any of it." Tony slammed his fist again into Mysterio's chest, making sure to aim for the right angle to break at least a rib

Then Tony dropped him. As he hit the ground, Tony's foot connected with his chest.

Again.

And again.

And again.

He kicked him in the stomach and the chest, he stomped on his face and his legs. Tony pummeled any piece of unprotected flesh he could, hoping for the snap that signaled a broken bone and missing the blood that started to make his armor slick.

Mysterio eventually rolled painfully away from Tony, apparently attempting to get to his feet but ultimately stumbling forward onto his face. He collapsed and did the only thing left to him. Mysterio curled an arm around his chest, and the other one came up in front of him to ward off Tony as he weakly ground out, "I'll tell yo' e'erythin'. Juss…juss stop. Pleez."

In response, Tony brought his foot down on Mysterio's outstretched arm, causing the man to cry out in pain. After he stopped, Tony asked with a sinister snarl, "I'm sorry, are you actually asking for mercy?"

Mysterio nodded tentatively, unwilling to try to pull his arm free from under Tony's foot.

Tony dropped to a knee, grinding his heel into Mysterio's forearm until there was a horrific snap. Then he leaned farther over his prey and snarled, "Did you give _him_ mercy when he told you to stop?"

Mysterio's eyes widened in panicked fear, and he instinctively tried to scramble away, the singular pain in his arm forgotten as the larger threat loomed over him. But Tony simply pressed down harder, pinning him in place and reveling in the second snap that echoed around the room, followed a half a second after by Mysterio's blood-curdling scream.

The beating continued until suddenly, Tony was tackled from where he was crouched over Mysterio's prone body. He looked up in anger to see Clint squatted over him, with Steve standing just behind them. Both were talking, but Tony couldn't hear it through the blood pounding through his skull. When it looked like they asked him a question and Tony couldn't answer it because he hadn't heard it, he felt his center of gravity shift as Clint fell away and Steve yanked him to his feet. Once he was standing, the soldier physically threw him out of the room.

Tony stumbled slightly, but he landed solidly, turning on his heel and snapping his gaze to Steve with an angry snarl. He needed to get passed him. Pushing forward, Tony threw his hands into Steve's shoulders, bodily trying to shove him back and spat, "Get out of my way, Steve!"

Steve shoved him back and calmly declined, "No, Tony. You have to calm down before you go anywhere near that room."

Tony growled as the rest of his suit curled around him, clicking and melding into a full armor that even Steve had a hard time controlling.

Steve bristled. His stance shifted into a more defensive position and he issued a sharp warning, "Stop, Tony." Something about that tone shook some of Tony's anger and when he finally stopped moving forward, Steve relaxed slightly. He tried to keep his voice relatively calm when he asked, "What is going on?"

Tony snarled but obliged an answer, "Pete doesn't want me in his room anymore." His gaze wandered back in the direction of Mysterio's cell.

Steve bristled at the distracted attention and tried to redirect it, "Why?"

It worked. The anger was now aimed at Steve and Tony spat, "Did you really not know why?" Fury flared to life again in his eyes, and he roared, "We left him behind!"

Steve narrowed his eyes, and cautiously said, "That wasn't our fault."

"It doesn't fucking matter if it was or wasn't our fault. Pete thinks we betrayed him. He thinks we left him there to die, that's enough. And it's that bastard's fucking fault." Tony thrust his finger toward the room. Once he did, his gaze followed, and he saw the doctor crouched over Mysterio's prone form. Something about that shot through Tony's consciousness, and he felt the stranglehold he had on his fury loosen slightly. Still, he defended himself, "If we just killed him, Steve…"

"We can't do that, Tony." Steve stressed for what felt like the thousandth time.

Tony looked up at him, and while his eyes swirled with embarrassment, he still snarled, "He deserves it. And it would solve all our problems."

"Maybe." Steve acknowledged. Then he continued, "But that doesn't give us the right to."

* * *

When they finally made it back to Peter's room, Michelle was balancing a meal for him, her, and Tony, in both hands. Carefully Morgan pressed the door open, a look of concentration clear on his face as he made sure not to lose his food at the same time. Michelle couldn't help but watch him with a soft smile, and that was still on her face when she stepped into the room behind him. She watched him until she heard a…sniffle from the bed. Her gaze snapped to Peter, and as soon as she saw him, she knew something was wrong.

But she also saw him try to cover it.

Trying to help, Michelle hurried to hide the awkwardness in the room, "We brought some lunch." The smile she tried to keep on her face slipped when Peter looked up at her, and she realized that Tony wasn't in the room anymore. Michelle bit her tongue before she could ask where he was.

It was weird he wasn't there.

Morgan wasn't quite as subtle, and in a few moments, he voiced the question she was asking, "Hey, where's dad?"

Peter covered the stricken look that crossed his face quickly, and he evenly said, "He had to go talk to the others about something. He was going to wait until you got here, but I told him you would be back soon enough, and I'd be fine."

Michelle found herself almost believing him, it was a good lie.

Morgan looked a little sad but shrugged anyway, "Well, then I guess we just keep his food here until he comes back."

Peter's composure slipped into a sickened smile, but his voice was still calm when he said, "I don't know how long he's going to be, it sounded important."

Michelle hurried to help, "If he's gone for too long, we'll just take it back upstairs and put it in the fridge for him."

Morgan scrunched his face but conceded, "Yeah, okay." Then he looked over at Peter, "Wanna hear about what I've been learning to build?"

Peter hurriedly tried to make up for his personal agitation and with an almost exaggerated agreement assured, "Yeah, I do." Unfortunately, that pseudo excitement didn't last as long as he wanted, and eventually, Peter and Michelle were left eating in relative silence. They let Morgan do most of the talking in-between mouthfuls of food. They asked intermittent questions to try and keep the conversation going, but neither one was fully engaged.

Morgan was sitting on the edge of Peter's bed with his long-finished lunch plate perched next to him, when he finally asked, "Did I do somethin' wrong?"

That forced Peter's full attention, "No, of course not. What makes you say that?"

Morgan chewed on his lip before he finally answered, "You just seemed happy to see me earlier, and I haven't seen you in a long time, but now you don't seem as happy to see me."

Peter frowned and leaned forward, wrapping his arm around his brother's shoulders, and murmuring, "I'm sorry, Morgan. I just still hurt pretty bad, and sometimes it's really hard for me to keep focused. But how about this, as soon as I get outta here, I'll spend the entire day hanging out with you. We can build something, anything you want."

"Will you be able to do that?"

Peter nodded solemnly.

Morgan's smile brightened, and he agreed, "Okay. Yeah." Then he hopped off the bed, "I'm gonna take dad his lunch, and then I'll find some stuff for us to do."

"Sounds good." Peter smiled sadly before he pulled Morgan in for another hug. He whispered to him, "Love you, Morgan."

Morgan pulled back a bit and said, "Love you too." Then he hopped off the bed, snatched Tony's plate off the table, and hurried out the door.

Once the door shut behind him, Michelle immediately looked at Peter and whispered, "What happened?"

When he crumbled instead of answering, Michelle crawled onto the bed and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close when he started to shake. And only a few moments after that, his back heaved as he sobbed into her shoulder. Michelle held him and whispered soothingly but had no way to wrap her head around what exactly happened.

* * *

**After everything that has happened, it's finally come to a head and now it's possible for them to start to heal. I'm thinking the next one or two chapters will be the last ones for this story.**

**I hope you all have a wonderful night/day and stay creative!**

**\- Lily**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hey everyone!**

**Well, we are officially down to the second to last chapter. Thank you to those who have favorited and followed, you guys are awesome. I also wanted to say thank you to:**

**\- the**** phenomenally awesome NinjaGirl1117, I'm really glad that Tony seemed in character to you! That's always what I go for :) I'm also really glad you like the story so much and thank you so much for the kind words! I hope you enjoy this chapter too!**

**I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter and that it lives up to your expectations! So, w****ithout further ado, **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"I'm gonna have to disagree with you on this one, Spangles. You and Robin Hood had no right to stop me." Tony snarked, the scorn undercutting the paradoxical guilt that melted away as his narrowly focused anger battered at the edges of his mind. He fought to stay in control. This was Steve.

Steve held his hands up in either a placation or a warning before his deadly serious tone cut through Tony's attempted sarcasm, "I know you disagree with me, but you have to think about Peter and Morgan right now."

"I am thinking about them!" Tony snapped all hint of even dry humor.

"Not in the long term, you're not." Steve let that sink in, but before Tony could defend himself, the Captain stopped him, "We promised Secretary Anders we would turn them over to her once we figured out what was going on. If you kill Mysterio or any of the others before we turn them in, the attention is going to fall on us. And it's going to fall on Peter." When Tony slipped out of his aggressive stance, Steve recognized the course he could take, and he pressed, reminding Tony of the truth he had apparently forgotten, "You know that since Ross, they've looked the other way with Spider-Man. But if he's suddenly alive and the Avengers kill the people who kidnapped him with extreme malice and after admitting they captured them, do you think they're going to continue to give us that leeway?"

Tony growled in anger but admitted, "No."

Steve inclined his head, pressing his logical advantage, "There are ways to get your revenge that don't involve killing them."

"None of those ways take them out of the fight permanently." Tony's voice slipped into a low growl, "And none of them are quite as satisfying."

Steve relented that point, "They don't, you're right. And maybe they're not as gratifying, but this is the deal we've made. We operate with a lot of freedom, and that always makes people uncomfortable." Steve leaned forward imploringly and tried to bring the conversation back to safe ground, "Peter's safe. That's what matters. And the longer we know where they are, the safer he'll be."

Tony deflated and admitted what he had been afraid of, "He's safe, but I don't know what that means for us." Tony looked away from Steve's intense gaze when he added, "I think he might leave."

Steve's shocked expression was evident, and he absentmindedly asked, "Leave? The Compound?" Then his eyes widened as he thought of the further implications in that answer, "The Avengers?"

Tony shrugged and answered honestly, "I don't know. As of right now, he just asked me to leave his room. But I wouldn't blame him for leaving the Compound at the least. How can he trust us to watch his back after what happened?"

"He blames us?" The Captain asked the hopefulness in his voice betrayed his disbelief.

Tony punctured the last of his hope, "Completely. But I think I have the lion's share of that blame."

Steve watched the man deflate somehow farther, and he felt horrible. Suddenly, he wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't dealing with a situation anymore; he was trying to comfort a friend. His voice was quiet and unsure when he promised, "He's just angry and confused right now, Tony. He'll get help, and he'll heal, and then this will just be a painful memory." His eyes ghosted slightly as he thought about his painful past, "One that we move past together."

Tony pursed his lips and disagreed, "I think this might be different. I don't think he's going to want to give us the chance." Then his voice dropped somehow lower, and he whispered, "And he shouldn't."

Tony's voice was just a whisper, and Steve couldn't help but notice that he was visibly a different person than the man he had pulled out of that room just a few minutes ago. Still, he couldn't help but retort, "We wouldn't have gone with the Guardians if we had known he was alive." But he felt like he was convincing Tony of something he should have already known, and it wasn't working. Tony just stared at him, but Steve didn't know what else to say, and so he let the conversation lapse slightly as he contemplated what Tony had just told him. Then finally, he asked, "Would you let him? Leave, I mean?"

Some of that anger slipped into Tony's incredulous answer, "Of course, I would. You think I'm going to hold him here? Make him a prisoner in his own home?" Tony shook his head vehemently before he added, "No, I'm gonna let him go and make sure he has whatever he needs. But that doesn't mean I'm not gonna beat the shit out of the people responsible for me having to make that decision." And just like that, Tony's anger flared to life again, and his fiery gaze flicked to the room just over Steve's shoulder.

But the soldier had already set his feet and stood firm, admonishing, "You have to reign this in. Now." When Tony's attention slipped into quizzical, Steve added, "You still have to talk to Ock today."

A maniacal smile slipped onto Tony's face, and his answer was not promising, "I nearly forgot about that…"

"Tony…" Steve warned.

The smile slipped, and Tony promised, "I'm not gonna kill him, I can't promise I won't mess with him though." His hands curled to fists at his sides. Silence swirled between them again, crackling with angry energy before Tony finally declared, "I want them gone." He thrust his finger toward Steve, "I'm sick of them being in my house. You call Anders, and you tell her that I want them gone. You tell her we're sending them to the Raft in three days."

As much as he wanted to question it, Steve knew that Tony ultimately had the final say, and he instead tried to correct what he saw as a mistake, "Do you want to wait to see if Ock gives you what we need first?"

Finally, Fry appeared moments before a gurney rolled out of the cell, and Tony's attention slipped over Steve's shoulder for a brief time. Ignoring the question after he caught a glimpse of the man he had just beaten, Tony tried to suppress the twisted satisfaction that built in his chest. When the team passed quickly out of direct eye contact, he looked up at Steve and snarled, "I'll get the answers. He wants those arms back; he'll give us what we need. Just call her."

* * *

Michelle had seen Peter at some pretty dark times, but this was the lowest she had ever witnessed. As she tried her best to comfort him, she couldn't help but think that she should be doing something more. The treasonous instinct to use now to convince him to talk to someone reared up, and she crushed it, knowing that telling him that was not going to be helpful. Instead, she rubbed his back and promised him she was there. Eventually, his sobs quieted, and he stilled. Only then did she venture into the terrifying subject of painful memories and trauma. Her voice was quiet, forgiving, even supplicant when she asked, "Peter, do you want to tell me what happened?"

Peter had calmed, but his head was still pressed into Michelle's shoulder as he clutched at her, begging for a strength she willingly gave. Disregarding everything obvious about his situation, he shook his head and managed to croak, "There's really nothing to talk about." When he felt Michelle shift, her hands pulling slightly away from around his back and her back bowing marginally, Peter knew she was trying to get a look at his face. He sighed but obliged, turning to look at her.

Michelle's expression was sympathetic, but her answering comment cut to the quick. Her voice was kind but firm, leaving little room for argument, "It was obviously something. Tony didn't get called away. You asked him to leave. Or you had a fight, or he said something that upset you, but he left because you wanted him to and no other reason." Michelle knew Tony was involved because of his conspicuous absence, and when Peter didn't immediately explain, Michelle couldn't help but add, "That's something."

Peter went nearly boneless as he sighed heavily. He wanted to miss her point, but it was too poignant for even him to ignore. He murmured into her shoulder, "I asked him to leave."

"Why?" Michelle wondered aloud. She was genuinely confused by the sudden change; Tony had been a fixture in Peter's room until now. His reaction surprised her.

Peter's gaze snapped angrily to hers before he snapped, "He left me for dead, MJ. I don't know what there is to explain."

Michelle pulled back slightly in surprise and a little unconcealed fear.

Peter dropped his gaze and whispered, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." He collapsed back into her shoulder.

Michelle thought about comforting him, about telling him that this would pass just like everything else, but the words wouldn't form. This wasn't like all his other injuries or any of his close-calls; this was a misunderstanding predicated on fear, fueled by pain, and perpetuated by nightmares. She needed something more than just empty reassurances. So, she went for brutal honesty. That seemed to be all she had left, "He didn't leave you for dead, Peter. He didn't know you were alive. None of us did. If you want to blame him," Michelle swallowed hard, carefully piecing together what she was going to say next because it could implicate more people than she intended, herself included. Still, it had to be done, and she quietly admitted, "You have to blame me too. I saw the same body he did. If I hadn't actually seen you on that quinjet, I would have never believed Tony found you alive."

Peter pushed away from her, his disbelief clear, "There was a body?"

Michelle scrunched her face at him, assuming he had, for some reason, known that, "Yea…yeah." Then she realized he might not actually know their side of the story, "You think they just assumed you were gone?" She bit her tongue at the unnecessary comment and hurried to reorient the conversation, "Wait, how much do you know about what happened here when we thought you were de…gone?"

"Apparently not as much as I thought," Peter admitted, his curiosity getting the better of him now that he wasn't quite as worried about healing.

Michelle's eyes widened, but she hurriedly relayed everything she knew about the situation before they found him. Everything she had seen and everything she and everyone else had done to deal with their perceived reality.

When she finished her story, she couldn't help but watch his incredulous face before she ardently whispered, "Tony didn't leave you, Peter, he would never do that. He didn't know you needed his help." She thought about asking him to talk to his dad but realized that pushing him too soon had never worked in the past. Instead, she wrapped her arms tighter around him and murmured into his hair, "I'm not going anywhere, and neither is anyone else, just tell us what you need, and we'll do it."

* * *

As the sound of the gurney wheels echoed away, Steve saw Tony's gradual transformation. The swirling ire and feral hunger in his eyes finally calmed and then hardened into steel even while his fingers uncurled out of the tight fists at his side. Steve gave him a few more moments before he sternly, if quietly, said, "You're going to have to be with someone else in that room."

The calm dropped as Tony conceded, "I know." Then he chuckled sardonically, "Who knows, maybe I could use the help?"

Steve dropped the painful gaze before he added, "You won't need the help, but you do need to have the conversation." He watched Tony carefully, but when he did not attempt to move or add anything, Steve asked, "When are you thinking of heading down?"

"Now," Tony said. The steel, which hadn't left his gaze, was on full display.

Then, Clint slipped nearly silently out of the room and leaned casually against the wall. He watched Steve and Tony with a critical eye until he decided on his conversation starter. He sounded far more impressed than his words let on, "Well, he's not dead. Regardless of how hard you tried."

Tony narrowed his eyes at the archer before sniping back, "I'll just have to try harder next time." Tony caught Steve's immediate attention and smirked at the discomfort he saw on the Captain's face. Tony let him dangle for just a moment before he casually turned, throwing his hand up and admitting, "It was a joke, Cap. I won't touch him again."

Seemingly reassured, Steve turned to Clint, "We're going to talk to Ock. You're going to have to come with us."

Clint nodded and turned without a word in the direction of the next holding cell.

The three paused in front of the door, a silent conversation passing between them until finally, Tony shrugged and laid his hand on the door. He took a deep breath and pressed it open as Clint and Steve flanked him. Not willing to lose the anger still simmering unused from his encounter with Mysterio, Tony strode into the room with renewed vengeance. Without address, Tony looked to where Doc Ock sat on the bed in the corner of the room, one of his arms pulled onto his lap. Tony stomped forward and demanded, "So what's it going to be?"

Doc Ock stared up at him with thinly veiled annoyance, and his voice held the same tone, "I'll tell you what they did, but you have to help me first."

Tony was about to negotiate that point, but when he opened his mouth to speak, Doc Ock's expression turned serious, and he quickly cut Tony off.

"I want Peter in the room too."

Tony's anger threatened to pound through his veins again, but he wrestled it back and spat, "Absolutely not. He's still in a hospital bed because of what you did to him. I'm not dragging him out of it to help one of his tormentors." Then he leaned forward at the waist, into Doc Ock's face and snarled, "Either you want _my_ help, or you don't. Those are your two options."

Doc Ock fixed his narrowed gaze on Tony and seemed to notice something in his gaze because he quickly ceded, "Fine, help me fix the prosthetics, and I'll tell you what you want to know."

Tony quickly countered, "No, you tell me what I want to know, _then_ I'll help you."

Doc Ock seemed to know he was pushing his luck because he winced slightly before he refuted Tony's offer, "Help me fix two of them, and I'll tell you everything."

The apparent negotiations were wearing Tony's patience dangerously thin, and he clenched his fists at his side before countering…again, "You'll tell me what I want to know while we fix them."

Doc Ock let out a slight breath before he finally agreed, the relief clear in his voice, "Fine. Come back tomorrow."

Tony shook his head and laid down his expectations with no more room for negotiation, "No, we're starting now. I'll be back in an hour with some equipment." He turned on his heel and stormed out. As he walked past Steve and Clint, he quietly muttered, "I'm going to need help."

Without a word, they followed him.

* * *

When the three showed up an hour later, Tony's mood was somehow darker but more controlled than it had been before. He still was not a fan of being babysat, and for a brief moment, he wondered if that was part of the problem. But then he opened the door, and had bigger issues to deal with.

As he unceremoniously dropped some of the equipment on the table, Tony watched Doc Ock like a hawk as the man made his way over. Once he sat down, Tony snatched up an arm and examined it briefly before he dropped it on the table and demanded, "Tell me what happened." While his gaze flicked between Doc Ock and the arm, he picked through the tools and found what he wanted.

Doc Ock watched Tony's apparent understanding of his equipment but decided to try to figure out his angle and arrogantly asked, "Well, that is a loaded demand, isn't it?"

Tony's sharp gaze snapped to his, and he snarled, "Don't lay on the bullshit with me. I just beat the shit out of Mysterio, and honestly, the only reason I've not done that to you is because of them." Tony thrust his thumb over his shoulder in indication before turning back to the arm in his lap as an obvious form of forced distraction.

Doc Ock gaped open-mouthed at Tony, prompting the object of his study to suddenly look up and snap, "Do you want proof? I can take you to see him, or you can do what I want, and then you'll never have to find out." Expecting what he wanted out of fear, Tony picked up the arm in front of him and started to tweak some of the mechanics.

Doc Ock couldn't hide his perplexed awe of the man in front of him, and he almost weakly said, "You don't have to…" The disgraced scientist reached forward to the piece Tony had in his hands.

But Tony slapped his hand away and exhaustedly snapped, "Trust me. I get this. I understand what you were doing here. Now quit stalling and tell me what I want to know."

Doc Ock scoffed self-consciously but conceded control when Tony did, in fact, seem to understand what he was doing. He watched him for a few moments as the mechanic became increasingly engrossed in the work.

Unfortunately for Doc Ock, the project wasn't nearly interesting enough to keep Tony's attention off what he had come for. So after a few minutes of awkward silence, he paused and snapped, "Either you start talking, or I'm done. And I'll take all the equipment with me."

Doc Ock sneered but finally explained, "It wasn't as hard as you think to get Peter away from you." He drew out the last word like Tony was some kind of unwashed thing that would contaminate all it came in contact with. But when Tony didn't respond to the jab, Doc Ock continued at a much more even tone, "Kraven found a man who was about the same height and build as Peter and then the rest of it was just planning." He begrudgingly grabbed a tool off the table and set to work on his project arm.

The doctor talked as he worked, almost absentmindedly, "We knew the first problem would be separating him from the Avengers. Keeping him from calling for help."

That caught Tony's attention, and he looked up in interest, gesturing in obvious annoyance for the man to explain faster.

Doc Ock smirked at Tony's displeasure but continued, "You might think I don't do much, but I'm more than a battering ram. I figured out how we could control when he could call out. It wasn't easy, I couldn't recreate your system, but I figured out a way to jam it for about twenty seconds at a time. After that, the encryption shifted too many times for my program to keep up. But it meant we had a window, and we knew that if we kept him on the defensive and fighting, he wouldn't be able to signal for more than a handful of seconds at a time. The first few times he tried…"

Tony had refocused on the arm as Doc Ock started talking again, but his gaze snapped up in fury when he heard that. He snarled and leaned forward aggressively, dropping what he was working on onto the table.

Doc Ock either didn't notice or tried to appease him by hurriedly continuing, "He tried a few times to call for backup, I think he knew he was in over his head. But we're not stupid. We wore him down, and we kept blocking his distress signals until eventually, we knew he was too weak to last much longer, then we allowed a message to go through. Once that happened, we just had to make sure that he talked to someone long enough to draw you in before we knocked him out."

Tony remembered that call. He wasn't sure he would ever be able to forget it. He could still hear the relief in Peter's voice ringing in his ears as he begged for help. He remembered the desperation in his son's tone as he tried to explain what was happening, but the full tale was held back by fear and the slurred words of an obvious concussion. Tony remembered his answering panic as he tried to reassure Peter, letting him know that he was coming, and he would take care of him. But the most poignant part of the memory was the blinding terror that shot through him when the connection cut out. He could feel the residual pain of a rapidly closing throat before his vision narrowed dangerously, and he almost hyperventilated in the suit.

Now he had an idea of what had caused that.

Doc Ock watched as Tony picked up and started to fidget with the arm. There was a slight nervousness in the doctor's voice when he continued, "We got him out of the fight and dropped the decoy in…"

"What does that mean?" Tony spat. Then he asked something he needed to know, "I need more than just you 'dropped the decoy' how the hell did you make us think he was dead?"

Doc Ock smirked, "So that's what's going on. Mysterio said you wouldn't find them."

"Find what?" Tony spat, very close to being done with this game.

Doc Ock seemed to recognize his mistake because he sobered quickly and answered Tony's question, "There are a few small, I think it's four, but you'd have to ask Mysterio to be sure, projectors embedded in the decoy's skin. It's why we had to cut his face up so badly. We figured the worse he looked, the less likely you would be to find the devices once you got him cleaned up."

Tony winced as for a long moment; he went from remembering it to being there again. He saw blood pulsing from the right side of Peter's crushed skull. He remembered how the bones had shifted when he desperately brushed his hand along his son's hairline, trying to assess the damage. But that only lasted so long until Peter shifted in shocked pain, and Tony's gaze dragged down to his twitching legs. It was obvious from the bone that poked up through the skin, tearing the red and blue of the suit, that they were shattered. Tony had nearly vomited then when the phrase 'beyond repair' slunk into his mind. But that recognition only lasted for a few painful moments before the wet, labored breaths begged for help Tony couldn't give. Instead, he had tried to comfort the obviously dying man, promising him help and pleading for him to hold on.

Tony spiraled slightly, but it was suddenly juxtaposed with the memory of finding Peter in that cell. Tony shook his head to clear it and forced his focus back on track, "What happened next?"

Doc Ock winced in confusion and added, "Nothing. We had what we wanted, so we just had to wait for the other man to die before we left." Then in some twisted example of humanity or an olive branch to keep Tony working, Doc Ock offered, "That guy was dead either way, there wasn't anything you could have done to help him."

Tony felt particularly sick at that level of knowledge. Not only was there another innocent person dead, but he had died terribly, and because everyone had assumed it was Peter, the man's family had no idea what had happened to him. Suddenly he felt the distinct urge to know exactly who he had been. He hurriedly asked, "How do I turn them off?"

"What?"

Tony clarified with a patronizing slowness, "The projectors or whatever the hell they are. How do I figure out who he was?" Tony snarled, furious at the easy dismissal of someone else's son. Someone else's fiancée. Someone else's brother. Actually, it pissed him off.

Doc Ock shrugged, his attention back on his project when he absentmindedly said, "Short of surgically cutting them free, I don't know how else you would remove them."

At that indifference, for a split second, Tony considered calling his armor, but then he remembered Steve and Clint were still behind him. With a strength he didn't know he had, he kept himself from wrapping his hands around the man's throat and squeezing until he stopped talking.

But he couldn't help anymore. It made him feel…scummy. Villainous. Traitorous. All the things he couldn't handle being. _All the things Peter thought he was,_ a thin voice reminded him. Without warning, Tony dropped the arm he was repairing and pushed back away from the table. He couldn't be in the room with the man anymore, and now that he had what he needed, he didn't need to be. Tony snatched the tool Doc Ock was using away from him before he started to pack up everything else.

Steve and Clint stepped forward silently to help.

Doc Ock scrambled to grab anything off the table before he agitatedly accused, "You said you would help me fix them!"

"I lied." Tony snapped. Gathering up what he could carry, he stalked out of the room.

* * *

"Why aren't you talking to dad?" Morgan asked as he constructed the base of the space shuttle he and Peter were building. It had been a few days since Peter had told Tony to leave him alone, and he had avoided Morgan for a few days too, only letting Michelle and May into his room. After that, he finally cooled down enough to realize that his little brother hadn't done anything wrong, and he would just end up hurting his feelings unnecessarily if he didn't talk to him.

They had been playing for a few hours before Morgan asked the question burning in his mind since last night.

And it caught Peter off-guard. He tried to cover Morgan's intuitive question with a slightly less confident query, "What do you mean?"

Morgan scrunched his nose the way Peter had seen Pepper do when she was annoyed at Tony, and he emphasized that annoyance when he bluntly said, "Exactly what I said. Why aren't you talking to dad anymore?"

Peter sighed but relented, aggressively pushing a block into place as he admitted, "It's hard to explain."

Morgan fixed him with his steely, blue-eyed gaze and challenged, "Try."

Peter's attention snapped to Morgan's, and he couldn't help but quip, "Being a little bossy for a ten-year-old, aren't you?" He tried desperately to keep the anger out of his tone, but it only kind of worked.

Morgan's lips pursed, deepening the crinkle of his nose when he retorted, "I'm almost eleven, you know that. Don't change the subject."

Peter knew he had gotten that directness from Pepper, and he sighed again. His voice betrayed his exhaustion, "Buddy, there's a lot more to it than you think."

Morgan shook his head, unwilling to be swayed, "I don't think there is."

Peter blew out his breath slowly, pressing his finally healed, but suspiciously shaking, hand to his head. For a split second, he considered leaving. He considered ignoring Morgan's question and going somewhere that wasn't here. But as he considered it, even for that brief moment, Peter felt a momentous amount of guilt and cowardice creep into his deliberations.

He couldn't leave Morgan again.

He had done that already, multiple times now apparently, and if he did it again, it would irrevocably fracture their relationship.

Dropping his shoulders and looking up with hooded, pain-swirled eyes, Peter tried to figure out how to explain to Morgan what happened.

But the youngest Stark seemed like he read the conflict on Peter's face, and he quietly encouraged the conversation, "I know why you don't want to tell me, I know what they did to you." When Peter looked up at him with an agonized expression, Morgan pursed his lips and confessed, "Well, I kinda know. I tried to make FRIDAY tell me what was going on, but she wouldn't tell me much, only that you got injured." His eyes light up slightly even as he confessed, "Natasha's been teaching me to sneak so I've been practicing and listening in on all the conversations I could when mom and dad thought I was sleeping or when the others were meeting somewhere I could get to. I don't know everything, but I know they hurt you real bad." Morgan dropped his gaze away from Peter and whispered, "And I know that you think the 'vengers had something to do with it."

Peter looked up at him in surprise, "How?"

Morgan shrugged but admitted, "Dad was telling mom about something bad he had done. He said he was really angry because you said you don't want to see him anymore and he hit somebody hard. I couldn't catch everything, and FRIDAY wouldn't let me see the video, but he was really upset about it. I think the man's name started with an M." Morgan's attention wandered a little away before he looked back at Peter and begged, "Please don't be mad at dad; he didn't do anything."

Peter stared hard at the little boy in front of him, trying to discern the truth in that statement. But Peter had never known Morgan to lie, and he had always tried to be honest in return. Peter felt his eyes well up slightly, but he held the tears in check and admitted, "I don't know if I can right now." When Morgan's eyes welled up in return, all Peter could do was whisper, "I'm sorry, but it's just not that easy this time."

With a wisdom far beyond his years, Morgan just nodded, and carefully watched his brother. Seeming to make a decision, Morgan scooted around the pile of legos and climbed into Peter's lap. He wrapped his arms around Peter's waist. Burying his head in his brother's shoulder, he murmured, "That's okay, Peter."

Peter unconsciously wrapped his arms around his little brother's shoulders. As soon as his arms wrapped tight, Morgan hiccuped a few times as the tears started to fall. They quickly began to soak into Peter's shirt, but he just pulled the little boy closer and rested his cheek on Morgan's hair. For once, he felt dryness in his own eyes as he finally got a chance to comfort someone else.

It felt better than he remembered.

* * *

**Well, that's it for this chapter!**

**I have to say, I really love Morgan so much (both in the real MCU and the Morgan I've written in my head haha). The Morgan here is so fun to write and I hope that was a good scene because I really liked how it turned out. **

**But feel free to let me know what you thought about the chapter in the comments. **

**I hope you have a wonderful night/day and stay creative!**

**-Lily**


	17. Chapter 17

**Hey everyone!**

**Thank you to those of you who followed or favorited this story, I appreciate it so much and I mean that sincerely. It's always great to get those emails. I definitely want to make sure that I give a shoutout to: **

**\- the fantastical NinjaGirl117, As soon as I thought of that, I knew I had to use it :) I'm glad you like it. I'm so excited the shoutout made your day :) That's always my goal for doing this, you guys definitely make my day when I read your comments so if I can return any of that, I want to! I hope you like this chapter too!**

**\- the phenomenal xsheepix, I'm happy you liked it! That was a tough chapter to write, so I'm glad it worked! I hope you like this chapter too!**

**\- the astonishing meamaya101, I know. I actually wrote that haha. But then I realized that would take the story in a different direction than what I wanted so I rewrote it. You'll have to read to find out. Hopefully, you like this chapter!**

**All of you guys are so great and encouraging, which makes this whole process so much more fun. **

**Alright, I'm done talking now so, I hope you...**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Days passed in tense, awkward slowness as the Avengers started to get back to normal.

Or at least the bulk of them tried.

But with Peter still angry at Tony, and Tony's increasingly dark moods and unpredictable temper, normal was really more of a pipe dream. They still lived in the same complex, and it wasn't _that_ big.

As much as he wanted to leave, Peter couldn't get himself to the point where he felt comfortable anywhere else. Something was tethering him here, and for as badly as he wanted to sheer it free, he couldn't figure out how. So, he stayed, and he healed, but he held the Avengers at arms' length. As the days slipped by from time to time, he wondered why, even with as big as the Compound was, he never ran into Tony. He knew he could get his answers easily, but at the same time, he didn't want to know. So instead, he was left to wonder silently. In the meantime, he helped Michelle move some of their stuff into one of the guest rooms.

He knew it would hurt Tony's feelings, but he couldn't afford to worry about that.

At best, it made him feel apathetic but then there were times when he caught himself taking the elevator to the wrong floor. Each time, that apathy evaporated and the mistake drove a searing pain through his chest. Still, it wasn't enough to force him to end this standoff. He still wasn't ready to see Tony.

If he had asked, Peter would have learned that Tony was actively avoiding him. He had given FRIDAY orders to warn Tony if Peter was moving toward him, which gave him time to leave. If he was working on something, he dropped what he was doing. If he was talking to someone, they relocated. If he was training, he stopped. Every time he went somewhere else before Peter could see him. It felt childish the longer he kept it up, but at the same time, he was desperately trying to keep Peter from having to deal with someone who had so badly betrayed him.

Unfortunately, for as healthy as that might have been for Peter's state of mind, it was equally destructive for Tony's, and every day Tony's mood darkened increasingly.

Having the Six still in the Compound didn't help.

Because regardless of how vehemently Tony raged, Anders couldn't take them on the Raft yet. There was an issue locking them down in the timeframe Tony wanted, and regardless of how much he pushed, they were still with the Avengers. They were going on a week since the end of Tony's initial deadline.

The only positive in all this waiting (if you asked anyone but Tony) was that Mysterio wasn't going to die. That meant Tony wasn't going to face murder charges, but it also meant that any satisfaction he would have gotten from that possible outcome, withered. All of this boiled over the morning Anders told the gathered group that they would be ready for the Six in a week.

Another week.

Seven more days on top of the ten they had already waited.

As soon as she said it, Tony leaned aggressively forward in his chair and snarled, "What part of I want them gone, did you not understand?"

Anders's voice was calm as she turned her icy eyes toward him, "I understand what you want, Mr. Stark. But there are legal matters that go into holding American citizens indefinitely in a high-security prison. I need more time."

"You had no problem with it when it was us." Clint snapped, leaning back away from the table with his arms crossed over his chest.

The projection turned toward him, and Anders's voice was sympathetic but unyielding when she said, "That was when former Secretary Ross was in control, is that really what you want to go back to?"

The little control Tony had, snapped, "You know they kidnapped and tortured an American citizen, right? Took him out of the country? Beat him? Abused him? Where's the justice in that?" When Anders paused just a little too long, a contemplative look on her face as she seemed to consider an answer to Tony's question, the man in question growled, "Either you figure out a way to deal them, or I'll make sure they don't need those cells."

All eyes snapped to Tony, and he didn't give any indication that he was exaggerating or lying. Rhodey leaned close and hissed, "Tony, you can't say that."

"Why the fuck not?" Tony shouted unnecessarily, making sure to keep his voice loud enough for the Secretary to hear it. He kept going, his voice building, "They're living in my house. I'm feeding them. Making sure their taken care of; it seems to me this is what the government is for since I'm not, nor have I ever been, a prison warden." Then he turned his gaze to Anders and snapped, "Get them the fuck out of my house quicker than that."

To her credit, the woman didn't seem phased, and that same sympathetic smirk she had shown Clint turned on Tony. She inclined her head, but her tone held none of the deference that motion suggested, "I understand why you're upset, and I will do what I can to speed the process along, but I cannot promise it will get done any sooner." She said a curt goodbye to the rest of the Avengers and ended the projection.

With the Secretary gone, every head turned to Tony, and the accusing looks on their faces were enough to make him feel a little guilty for what he had said. Still, he held his hands out and said, "What?"

Steve leaned forward, almost exhaustedly on the table, and explained, "Tony, you can't talk to the Secretary of State like that. We need her to help us, and if you start threatening to kill people in cold blood…"

His voice was close to patronizing, and Tony cut him off, "I wanted to prove that this is actually a problem that needs solved. She's the one who needs to get her shit together, not me. I did my job, and now it's time for her to do hers." He fidgeted in his seat, his gaze darting between all the Avengers arrayed before him. Finally, he pushed back away from the table and stormed out of the room.

Rhodey watched Tony's retreating back and once he was out of the room he shrugged his palms up in frustration. Then he turned to Natasha, "Can you try talking to him?"

Clint nodded along and leaned forward imploringly, "You two have always been close, especially since you helped MJ a few years ago."

Natasha set her jaw in distaste before she ground out, "I don't think that's a good idea. I don't think we should push him."

Steve ended the discussion, "He needs to talk to Tony; this can't keep going." Then he continued authoritatively, "If something were to happen, if we were suddenly called on, we couldn't trust them to work together, and that's dangerous."

There was a chorus of agreement that made Natasha visibly uncomfortable. She stared them all down, and then after a long minute, she conceded, "I'll talk to him."

* * *

Natasha was waiting outside Peter and Michelle's room when they got back from the courtyard. She had her leg kicked up on the wall behind her, but her eyes were on the ground and her slumped shoulders betrayed how uncomfortable she was with the whole situation. Still, once she caught sight of their shoes, she met their curious gazes but waited for them to address her. She couldn't help but notice that Peter's gaze held a particular undercurrent of nerves and she knew it was because she was the first Avenger actually come to him to talk.

Then Natasha met Michelle's gaze with a quick glance and a nearly imperceptible nod before she looked fully at Peter. Her sharp, knowing gaze bore straight through him, but she didn't say anything, still holding her tongue.

Peter recognized what she was doing, and a cold fear crept inexplicably into his stomach. Trying to maintain some semblance of calm, his voice was almost cold, "Hey Natasha."

Natasha raised her eyebrow at him, and for a split second, almost teased him about just going back to calling her 'Ms. Romanoff' but she didn't, knowing it wouldn't do any good. Instead, she simply said, "I need to talk to you, Peter."

Peter tossed a nervous glance at Michelle before he looked back at Natasha and said as casually as he could, "About what?"

Natasha's eyebrow rose almost comically farther, and she tipped her head to the side. She regarded him for another moment; her eyes flicking between the two before she finally said, "Let's go inside." She gestured to the door and flicked her gaze again to Michelle.

Michelle understood something had happened and she gently grabbed Peter's hand to draw his attention. She laid her free hand on his arm, "I think you need to talk to Nat alone, so I'm going to go to the living room. Just tell FRIDAY to get me when you're done…" She trailed off, praying he understood the seriousness of what was happening.

Peter's eyes widened in barely concealed anxiety, "I think you can hear what she has to say, you can just stay here." When she didn't seem to be buying it, he quickly added, "I'm going to tell you about it anyway."

Michelle gave him a soft smile before she squeezed his hand, preparing to push him farther than she had so far, and whispered, "You need to talk to Nat alone on this one. I'll be here when you're done, but you need to talk to her." Michelle felt fear twist in her gut, merely talking to Natasha should not be enough to freak him out, but it seemed like it was.

Peter just nodded, defeated. He turned to Natasha, holding her gaze for a short moment before he stepped past her and left the door open as he stepped through the threshold.

But before Natasha could follow him, Michelle quietly caught her attention. Michelle tried to whisper, but she knew there was no way she could stop Peter from listening if he wanted to. Instead, she just kept her voice low but couldn't keep out the worry, "Did something happen? Is Tony okay?"

Natasha frowned knowingly at Michelle, they had been trying to get the two to talk since they figured out what happened, but Peter's wounds were deep, and Tony was too afraid of making them worse to push. She matched Michelle's low tone and murmured, "It's nothing surprising, but he's getting angrier, and he lost it today on a call with the Secretary of State. It's a little much."

Michelle's eyes widened, and she nodded before warning, "You have to be really careful. He feels completely betrayed; I've never seen him so defeated. You can't push him because he might shut down, and that can't happen right now."

"He's talking to someone, though, right?"

"He is, but this is a lot." Michelle tried to hide the defensive tone in her answer. Rationally, she knew Natasha wasn't suggesting that Peter should be over everything, but at the same time, her need to protect him chased any rational argument out of her mind.

Natasha immediately recognized her mistake, "I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to imply…I just wanted to make sure that he was still talking to someone."

Michelle deflated a bit and added, "I know. I just…"

Natasha held up her hand to stop Michelle and removed all chance of guilt, "You don't have to apologize. I misspoke, and you reacted the way you should have." Then she leaned forward and murmured with overwhelming conviction, "I'm glad you did." She gave Michelle a soft smile and a nod before she slipped into the room.

Michelle watched the closed door as if she could see through the rich wood. When it didn't work, she gave up and retreated to the living room. Natasha wouldn't hurt Peter.

* * *

Natasha closed the door behind her and took a deep breath. When she looked up, Peter was already staring at her.

Peter deflated when she met his gaze, but his voice still held a hard, distrustful edge, "What do you want, Natasha?"

"Well, that's probably the rudest thing you've ever said to me." She quipped, hoping to somehow lighten the dour mood in the room. When Peter's face screwed up into something between annoyance and anger, Natasha quickly backed off, "I'm sorry. It was meant to be a joke, nothing else."

Peter's expression didn't change.

Natasha's eyes widened; this was not what she expected. She tried to cover her surprise and cut to the chase, "Peter, I know you're angry at him, but can you try talking to Tony? He won't listen to anyone else."

Peter's surprise showed on his face when Natasha said Tony. She hadn't called him that when she was talking to Peter in years. There was a pang of remembrance deep in his chest, and Peter refused to feel the pain that caused. He didn't want to be mad at Tony, but the man had betrayed him. He wasn't ready to forgive that broken trust.

If ever, maybe, but definitely not yet.

Still, Peter couldn't bite his tongue fast enough to avoid asking, "What's wrong with him?"

Natasha rolled her eyes to the ceiling for a moment before she gave an exasperated sigh, "He's been a pain…" But as she was speaking, Peter slumped back onto the bed, the motion demanded her attention. And she stopped suddenly. She was about to complain, but when she caught sight of Peter's slumped shoulder, his exhaustion obvious despite his apparent anger, she abruptly switched the conversation. "It doesn't matter. How are you? You look terrible, Peter." Natasha knelt in front of where he was sitting, and she studied him carefully. The bruises were mostly gone, but the lingering pain was reflected in the deep bruises under his eyes that proved how little sleep he had been getting.

Unsure of exactly what it was that made him do it, Peter confessed, "I haven't been sleeping. At all. I keep getting these nightmares, and if I can wake up, I can't ever get back to sleep." He pressed his head to his hand and murmured, "I'm keeping MJ up too." Then he looked up to her with a pleading gaze, "Nothing is helping."

Natasha took the chance. She sat next to him and quietly asked, "What are they about?"

"You guys mostly," Peter confessed, but then he got cagey. "I…uhh…don't know if I want to tell you."

Natasha waved her hand in front of her face and said, "You don't have to. I'm not here to pry. I'm here to ask for help. That's it."

Peter watched her with a desperate look that was undercut with relief. He took some time to think it over before he said, "You said you needed me to talk to Tony." The name felt strange on his tongue. It had been a long time since he had called him by his first name.

"Only if you feel comfortable with it." Natasha said, "You don't even need to really talk to him, just acknowledge him. He misses you." When Peter's confusion showed on his face, Natasha elaborated, "He just needs to know that you're alright. He knows you're healing, but he needs to see it."

"Why don't you just tell him I'm fine?" Peter asked quietly.

Natasha shook her head sadly and admitted, "He won't believe me, Peter. You know how he is."

Peter thought hard about what she was asking, but, every nervous thought warned him against it. His skin crawled with Natasha in the room, and he caught himself continuously flicking his gaze up to the door as if to make sure he had an out if he needed it. He had already figured out the best way to get around her if that became a necessity.

He hated himself for thinking about it.

But when all that had worked its way through his mind, Peter realized he wasn't ready to talk to Tony. He turned his sorrowful but steel gaze to Natasha, and admitted, "You're going to have to find a way to make him listen without me because I can't talk to him."

Natasha's shoulders dropped, and she conceded, "I understand." Then she said with sheer conviction, "I hope you realize that Tony didn't do what he did to hurt you. He would have never intentionally left you behind."

Peter's frustration and anger suddenly bubbled to the surface, and he spat, "Get out." But before Natasha could get over the shock of the command, he kept talking anyway. Snarling, he confessed, "I'm sick of everyone telling me what I should know. What I should be feeling." Then he unleashed on Natasha, "You're a part of this problem. Everyone keeps telling me that it wasn't their fault that they didn't know I was alive, but you know what? I didn't know that. You know the thing that kept me going? That you were going to get me out." He thrust his finger forward at Natasha. His shoulders were back, and his eyes were wild; Natasha actually scooted away from him. Still, he kept going, "And then you didn't. So, don't ever tell me Tony didn't mean to leave me there, that he didn't mean to let me get hurt, because he did leave me there. You all did." Peter was vibrating with anger by the time he was done, having jumped to his feet at some in the accusations.

Once he finished, Natasha stood gracefully and frowned sadly at him, "We all want you to get better, Peter. We all want you back. Tony most of all." Then without another word, she turned on her heel and strode out of the room.

The last thing she said rang in his ears, and it bolstered the part of him that wanted the same thing. That wanted his family back. But his anger and mind-numbing fear were powerful motivators and beat those sentiments back.

* * *

Peter started avoiding Natasha.

He kept seeing his therapist, and while he kept talking to everyone who spoke to him, he caught himself withdrawing farther than he had before his and Natasha's conversation. Michelle was the only one to know the full truth. And she was stuck because as much as she wanted him to try to talk to Tony again, she knew it was a bad idea to push. He was talking to her. It had to stay that way.

Peter felt like everyone wanted something from him, but he wasn't able to give it to them. He could tell Michelle was holding something back, but he was too terrified to ask her what it was. If it was what he thought, then she would ask him to do more than he was able, and he was afraid that would drive a wedge between them. At the same time, she seemed to know that was the case, and he loved her all the more for understanding.

But for the next several days, Natasha's request kept slipping into his thoughts. And eventually, he found himself questioning his own refusal.

If that was really all Tony needed, could Peter deny that?

Michelle had said they were tricked, that it was impossible to have guessed he wasn't dead. If that was true, did he deserve to hold on to this anger?

If Tony only needed was to know Peter was okay, was that so much to ask? He had pulled him out of that place...it had taken time but it happened. Plus, how bad could talking to…Tony really be?

Then Morgan's tearful plea screamed unbidden to the forefront of his mind. The little boy hadn't done anything wrong, but his family was tearing at the seams, and that wasn't fair. When his thoughts turned to Morgan, duty joined his internal conversation. He had promised Tony a long time again that he would protect his brother.

Surely, he could keep his anger in check for long enough to let Tony know he was on the mend. That couldn't cause that much damage.

Hell, maybe it could help?

The longer he thought about it, the more creeping empathy Peter felt slip into his mind as flashes of earlier memories pushed to the forefront. Those memories lacked the sting of betrayal that swirled through his mind now. And the happy recollections allowed hints of empathy to augment his courage, and impulsively, he asked, "FRIDAY, where's Tony?"

"He is currently in the conference room on the Avenger's floor."

Peter furrowed his brow and asked, "Is there anyone else there?"

"No, it's just him."

Abruptly, that knowledge undercut his bolstered nerves because now he had to make a decision. Ignoring all potential warnings, Peter decided he could do this. He wasn't going to start a conversation, but he could let Tony know that he was okay.

He could do this.

Decision made, Peter called back up, "Please don't tell him I'm coming. I know you've been warning him."

In confirmation of the suspicion he had for a while, FRIDAY replied, "I am not allowed to decide whether I let him know."

Peter nodded in understanding before he laid out his argument, "FRI, I want to talk to him. If he leaves, I can't talk to him. Please don't tell him I'm coming."

There was a momentary pause before the brogue answered almost begrudgingly, "I will refrain from telling him."

"Thank you," Peter said, hurrying to catch Tony before he could leave.

* * *

As he made it just within sight of the conference room window, Peter's confidence slipped. He caught Tony's hunched form at the table, his head was in his hands, and his shoulders were bowed. Seeing him again caused the unresolved anger slipped in and infected his hard-won optimism. The debilitating though that he couldn't do this nearly froze him in place. Still, it was obvious Tony was upset and that compassion Peter had allowed in before pushed him forward. He was crossing in front of the window when suddenly Tony's attention shot up. Peter caught it. He watched as Tony immediately pushed away from the table and started to hurry out of the other door.

Peter took the last few steps quickly and pushed the door open. He wanted to call out to Tony to catch his attention, but he tripped over his tongue, unsure of what greeting to use. His hesitation allowed Tony to pull the door open, but he didn't quite make it through before Peter forced himself to yell, "Wait!" It wasn't exactly what he wanted to say, but it worked. Peter saw Tony shrug his shoulders up to his ears, his muscles clearly tensed even under the slightly too large shirt. Still, he stopped.

Tony heard Peter's voice, and he tried to hold his emotions in check. He wasn't having the greatest day, and this was not something he was ready to handle. It took him a considerable moment before he managed to turn around. Even then, he still couldn't meet Peter's eyes right away, instead choosing to focus on the table deferentially. He was equally terrified and thrilled at seeing his kid but the dichotomy made his head spin. So, when he finally managed to meet Peter's gaze, he could only croak, "Hey, Pete."

Peter felt that courage slip again, and he held his hands out to the side to show his peaceful intentions. Still, he had to admit why he was there, "Natasha asked me to tell you that I'm okay. She said you're not listening to anyone else. So...I'm okay." Peter swallowed hard, and his gaze slipped unconsciously to the door behind Tony, the thought flashing through his mind that there was a similar one behind him.

That hit Tony hard. Peter wasn't there because he wanted to be. Compelled to prove he wasn't a threat because he desperately wanted this cold war to be over, Tony took a hesitant step forward; Peter took two steps back. Tony froze again. Locking his feet in place, Tony tried talking past the lump in his throat. His voice was almost a plea when he asked, "Are you actually okay?"

Peter felt a pang of sympathy for the sadness radiating from him, and he nodded before he murmured, "I'm getting there."

"Good. That's good." Tony said earnestly, if awkwardly, before he added, "I know you've been hanging out with Morgan. That's been helping him a lot." He gave an almost sickened smile at the memory of a bounding Morgan so incredibly happy that he had gotten to play with his brother again.

Peter nodded stiltedly, "Yeah, he…uhh…wanted to build a spaceship."

The ghost of a smile on his face lifted Tony's spirits, but the conversation still tentatively died out.

Tony stared at Peter. He did look better. He had put on some weight, and most of the bruises were gone, only the deep ones around his eyes were still there. But as Tony watched his son, he couldn't stop all the swirling thoughts of all the things he wanted to say welling up in his chest and for as much as he tried to cram them back down, he couldn't catch them all before he blurted, "I just…wish I knew how to get back to something close to normal…I wish I knew how to explain what happened…"

And just like that, Peter felt that betrayal sting fresh and the amicable expression he was trying to keep fixed in place slipped when the anger flared in his chest. He spat, "There's nothing to explain. What happened, happened, regardless of how you want me to look at it." But as soon as it left his mouth, Peter took a step back; he hadn't meant to lay that out.

Tony's eyes widened, and he hurriedly threw out, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't' have said that."

But that was the wrong thing to say. All the fear, and anger, and betrayal viciously beat back Peter's compassion, and he snapped, "Yeah, you're sorry. Everyone is sorry. Sorry, it happened. Sorry, you didn't know. Sorry, you didn't get there earlier." He snapped his gaze up to Tony's and spat, "I'm so sick of sorry." Peter ran his hands through his hair as a way to deal with his suddenly pounding head. The pain ratcheted up his anger, and he kept going, "It doesn't help. It doesn't fix anything, and it definitely does fuck all for everything that is constantly running through my head." Then he thrust his finger toward Tony, "You don't get to apologize. You don't get to tell me how sorry you are and that you were just trying to do what was right." He swallowed hard before his voice lowered into a snarl, "Because it doesn't do any good." When Peter finished, his eyes were wide, like what he had just spewed came from somewhere in his subconsciousness, and he was not at all prepared to say it.

But he didn't take it back. Instead, he swallowed his fear and squared his shoulders, daring Tony to say something in return.

Tony's mind spun somehow faster than it had when Peter first walked in, and he tried to think of a response, anything he could say to calm Peter and keep him talking. But nothing formed quick enough, and instead, Peter beat him to it.

When he didn't get the response he apparently needed, Peter threw his hands up, "I'm done. I was just trying to let you know that I was fine because, apparently, you're being an ass. Imagine that." Peter said dismissively. Then he turned back to viciousness, "Natasha said this would help, but now I'm wishing I had never come to talk to you." Peter tried to turn toward the door, but stubborn optimism rooted him in place, hoping that Tony would somehow redeem the suddenly irredeemable.

Tony stepped forward again, distractedly forgetting Peter's earlier reaction. When his son took a quick glance toward the door behind him, Tony felt a dagger in his heart. He closed his eyes tightly and blew a breath out through his nose. He was scaring Peter. Even with the anger radiating off him, Tony knew he was scaring him. That forced Tony to a halting stop, and he bit his tongue before he apologized. Again. He didn't know what else to say, and he muttered, "I tried…"

But Peter heard that and turned his scorching gaze back on him, "Oh, you _tried_, did you? You tried to help me." Then he took a furious step forward and spat, "Well, I _tried_ to stay alive. And I _tried_ to stay whole. And you know what? No matter what I _tried_, it didn't work." Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out.

And Tony was left gaping at Peter's back as he tried to figure out what exactly had just happened. He was a bundle of mixed nerves because while it was good to see his son again, he couldn't help but feel like something had just broken.

* * *

**Okay, so for anyone who has followed my stories before, you know this is a common mistake I make...and yet again, we have a situation where I miscounted the number of chapters I need to wrap up the story. As of right now, I think there's going to be two more chapters after this. The reason being, ****when I was writing this chapter, I realized how much baggage I built into this story, and I can't wrap my head around resolving it too quickly if I'm being true to the story in my head. So, it's looking like two more chapters. **

**Feel free to let me know what you thought in the review.**

**I hope you have a good night/day and stay creative!**

**-Lily**


	18. Chapter 18

**Hey everyone,**

**Wow! Thank you so much for the lovely reviews, favs, and follows :) You guys are so amazing! That was so uplifting to read this week because, if I'm honest, it was a really rough week, so I appreciate the encouragement. I also want to make sure that I shout out to my excellent reviewers, so thank you to:**

** \- the fantastically amazing ****TheWeirdPersonNextDoor, I'm both glad and sorry that it hurt so much, haha I'm thrilled this chapter worked! And I hope you enjoy this chapter. **

** \- the phenomenally radiant xsheepix, I'm glad the story had that reaction because it's definitely what I was going for, but it will eventually get better, I promise! I hope you like this chapter too and of course! You're so amazing for always commenting, and I appreciate it so much, so here's another shout out to you. Keep being amazing! **

** \- the creatively astounding meamaya101, I'm glad you liked the fight in the last chapter! I love your ideas! It's not quite what I was thinking, but I'll see if I can work some of that in. It sounds like you have really awesome ideas, though! Have you ever thought about writing? Those are cool, drama-filled plotlines! I really hope you enjoy this chapter!**

** \- the amazingly spectacular ****NinjaGirl1117, I'm sorry! But I'm glad the internal conflict angle is working, it always makes me feel better to read that. I've not watched the Last Airbender, but they just added it on Netflix, so I'll have to check it out. I hope you enjoy this chapter too! And thank you for saying that :)**

**I think that's all I have for right now other than to say thank you again for everything and without further ado...**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Peter's anger only got him partially down the hall.

Once he was clear of Tony's potential gaze, it was embarrassment and sorrow that took anger's place. His purposeful stomp slowly slipped into a desperate jog as he tried to reconcile what had happened, but couldn't. That had gone about as horribly as it could have gone. _And it was your fault._ That conversation didn't have to evolve that way, but he had blown up. _He_ was the one that let it spiral.

The longer he allowed those deprecating thoughts to simmer, the more frustrated he became, and the tears he didn't want anyone else to see, sprang into the corner of his eyes. He was unraveling, and he didn't know what to do about it. He had tried to ignore it, but he finally felt like he was spinning out of control, and all the moorings he had learned to lean on were ripped from under him by circumstances he was perpetuating.

As far as he knew, he made it back to his room without anyone noticing, but that was only a small consolation. His brain hammered at his skull, trying to escape, and Peter wanted nothing more than to have an explanation of why he wasn't getting better. He was being continuously battered, still. He screamed in agony before he lashed out and slammed his fist into the wall.

For as abrupt as that action was, it snapped him out of his spiral. The immediate pain and the abnormal crunch of plaster under his fist focused his attention solely on the hole. Peter's eyes widened as he saw his arm ending at the wrist, and he slowly, carefully pulled his hand free. He watched the newly cut and bleeding knuckles slip free like he was watching someone else act. But once the other person flexed their fingers, Peter became painfully aware he had put his fist through the wall.

Everything stopped.

He fell onto the bed and pressed his chin into his undamaged hand, taking a second to look at his newest injuries. The swirling thoughts paused, but when they promptly started to filter back, it was at a slightly slower pace, and it gave him a chance to process as much as he could before the swirling eddies returned.

* * *

Tony was absentmindedly watching Morgan piece together a robot he had been working on when Pepper padded into their living room. Tony was holding a few odds and ends pieces in his hands, but he was lost in thought. Pepper quietly knelt behind him and laid her hands on his shoulders. He jumped slightly and looked up at her in surprise. She could see the cause of her concern in his gaze even then because Tony had been quietly withdrawing from nearly everything except her and Morgan. It was his isolationist instinct that was awoken by the fight he and Peter had gotten in the day before.

His abnormal ability to compartmentalize was accelerating.

Since they had found Peter, he had tried to hold his feelings back. But that didn't mean his guilt, or whatever it was, wasn't affecting him. He was having nightmares, and his temper was shorter than usual. Still, without those indicators, Pepper had the distinct impression she would have never known how badly he felt about the situation. This was another one of those transparent moments. As he looked up at her, she watched the shift on his face. He quickly buried what he had been thinking, and once he got over his surprise, he turned his worn, disarming smile on her. Thankfully, it became more genuine the longer he looked at her.

When Pepper couldn't figure out what she wanted to say, Tony abruptly murmured, "We should go to the cabin for a while."

There was a light that dimmed a little in Pepper's eyes when he said that. She knew what this was. She had just been hoping he wasn't going to compartmentalize Peter too. She bought a little time as she hesitantly nodded and agreed, "That sounds nice." But as she held his gaze, she saw hints of his slipping façade before she tentatively asked, "Are you sure you want to do that?"

Tony eventually nodded and said almost cryptically, "I just think it would be a good idea to get some space. You know, a little breathing room. Maybe for a couple of weeks?"

Pepper couldn't help but catch that Tony was not specific about who needed the space. And she scrunched her nose slightly as she regarded Tony carefully. Then she decided to try to stop his reemerging instinct. Setting her shoulders, Pepper said, "I don't know if that's a good idea right now, Tony. I think you should stay here."

Tony's soft smile slipped, and he swallowed hard as the part of his world he was trying to hide became fully visible. It was only then that he admitted, "I can't."

Pepper's frown deepened, and she pressed, "When Peter deals with this, he's going to have to talk to you. If he can't find you, you could reinforce what he thinks you did."

Tony watched her with a sharp gaze before he retorted, "I think me being here is worse for him. He said talking to me was a bad idea. I can only imagine that if I went away, it would help him figure out what he needs to figure out."

Pepper shook her head and argued, "That doesn't make sense."

His patience started to wear overtly thin before he countered, "He said he's done, and I have no way to force him to do anything, including talk to me. And even if I did, I wouldn't. If he hates me, if he truly believes that I did what he said I did, then me being anywhere else is probably the best thing for him."

Pepper's brows furrowed, and her gaze saddened when she pled, "I don't think that's true, Tony."

"I'm beginning to think it doesn't matter what you or I think. I have to do this." Tony said with a shrug, but the conviction in his voice caught her off-guard before he continued, "I want you and Morgan with me, but...I have to go. And if I have to go on my own, I will."

Pepper observed him as if trying to gauge his determination, but she knew that once he made his mind up about something he felt was important, it was difficult to change it. She had her reservations, but she wanted to make sure he wasn't on his own, so she conceded. Maybe this would be a good thing for the two of them? She dropped her gaze but murmured, "I understand. We can leave tomorrow afternoon." Tony sat up like he was going to protest, but Pepper hurried to cut him off, "I have a Board meeting tomorrow morning. We've already rescheduled it twice because of everything that's happened. I can't do that again, or people are going to start getting nervous."

"Okay." Tony conceded, even as the guilt at even thinking about this continued to chew at him. He didn't want to leave, but the more he let his conversation with Peter play on repeat, the more he felt it was a necessary change. For him and, probably more so, for Peter.

Pepper looked over and said with an undeniable demand, "You need to tell him we're leaving."

Tony groaned but nodded at her wisdom and promised, "I will, I'll tell him." Even as he said it, Tony felt like the Compound tightened a little more around him. And his eyes widened for a moment when he realized he was terrified to talk to Peter. Burying that thought until later, he looked over at Morgan and, with a lightness he didn't feel, asked, "Hey Morgan, what would you think about going to the cabin for a few weeks?"

* * *

Pepper had asked Peter and Michelle to watch Morgan during the meeting. She had told them it was because Tony had to be with her, but it was meant to give Morgan a chance to hang out with Peter and force Tony to talk to him when he stopped by to grab Morgan after he finished the flight plans. Morgan was sworn to secrecy.

But Morgan liked to talk, and as they were working on the robot, Morgan innocently asked, "Are you excited to go to the cabin?" Morgan smiled up at the two adults in front of him, but when confusion slipped across their expressions, the younger boy's eyes widened. He hurriedly tried to correct himself, "I'm sorry, I wasn't supposed to say that. It was supposed to be a surprise." Tears sprang to his eyes before he added, "Please pretend I didn't say that." Then he looked at Peter and begged, "Please don't tell dad."

Peter's eyes widened, and he struggled to promise, "I won't say anything, buddy. I won't tell him you said anything." He squirmed a bit where he was sitting but sucked in a deep breath and said as evenly as he could, "But I don't think we're gonna go this time."

Morgan's pouting frown deepened, and he passed his gaze between Peter and Michelle. Michelle tried to cover Peter's obvious discomfort. With a soft smile, she leaned forward and said, "I think what Peter means is that we won't be able to come this time, Mo. Peter still needs to stay here until the doctor tells him he's allowed to travel." It was a bit of a lie; Peter had been cleared days ago, but she didn't want to explain the fight with Tony to an almost-eleven-old.

A few of Morgan's tears fell before he sniffled them back and wiped the back of his hand under his nose. Then he said in a shaky voice, "I get it." He turned back to his robot, but the talkative energy he had before was sapped out of the room as a tense silence fell over the three of them.

Michelle watched Peter out of the corner of her eye for a few minutes, but when he didn't jump in again to help Morgan, she gently touched his arm and dipped her head toward the door. When Peter nodded haltingly, Michelle looked back at Morgan, "Hey Mo, I'm gonna go talk to Peter real quick, okay? We'll be right back." Without waiting for an answer, she tugged on Peter's arm and slipped out into the hallway.

Before he could get an angry word in edgewise, Michelle said, "Are you okay with this?"

Even her calm voice wasn't enough to temper his anger, and he snapped, "With what? With Tony leaving? I'm not surprised." Then he shrugged and continued aloofly, "But I haven't really seen him in a few weeks anyway, what's it matter?" His interior monologue was screaming something completely different, as his heart hammered in a panic, but he couldn't understand why he avoided voicing it. Instead, he snarled, "I can't be here when Tony comes to get him." But when Michelle raised her eyebrow in the preface to an argument, his anger cooled, and he asked, "Can you just tell him what happened, and let him know that I understand?"

Michelle bit her lip but complied. The last thing she wanted was for Peter and Tony to fight in front of Morgan.

* * *

Peter stayed until he knew that Tony was on his way. Only then did he say his goodbyes, begging Avengers' business and throwing a thankful look at Michelle. He left calmly, but as he got farther from their room, he realized he didn't have anywhere else to go and fury built in his chest. It intensified with every step until he was nearly blinded by the anger he had buried for Morgan's sake.

After all this, Tony was just leaving. Again.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't realize what he was doing until he bodily ran into someone.

From the floor, he heard his name in a vaguely familiar voice, "Peter?"

Peter gaped open-mouthed at the blue woman on the ground in front of him. He had met her only a couple of times before, but he remembered her from the Guardians. Then suddenly, another memory slipped into his mind. Her standing between Tony and Ock. Peter scolded his clumsiness, and hesitantly said, "I'm sorry, Nebula." Then he offered her a hand and pulled her to her feet. The entire situation just added embarrassment to his litany of disparaging internal comments.

"It's fine." Nebula muttered, allowing the annoyance to slip into her tone. But before she could continue around the corner, something about the man in front of her caught her attention, and she turned her head sideways in a haltingly mechanical motion Peter found interesting. Her suspicion was evident in her voice when she asked, "Are you alright?"

Peter wanted to snap his teeth shut on his tongue and ignore what had happened until he was safely somewhere else, but as always, his nervous habit was to talk, so instead, he snapped, "No, I'm really not."

"Okay…" Nebula drew out her answer before she tentatively asked, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Peter's fiery gaze was meant to be intimidating, but Nebula's eyes only narrowed slightly. After Thanos, even someone as strong as Peter wasn't nearly threatening enough to make her flinch. She studied him carefully, but her thought process was visible. Unfortunately, she had no real evidence, so the best she could do was hint at what she assumed was the problem. Her voice betrayed none of her wariness when she asked, "Have you seen your father?"

The angry embarrassment on Peter's face twisted into a dark look, and he spat, "I haven't seen Tony in a few days."

Nebula raised her eyebrow as she held Peter's gaze. She watched him dispassionately for a moment before she bluntly offered some unsolicited advice. Her gaze never wavered, and her voice was steady when she explained, "I have twice seen the effect your death had on your father. And on both occasions, I haven't found a reason to doubt that he was sincere in his anguish." Peter bristled, but Nebula flicked her hand between them and spoke before he could protest, "I heard what happened between you, but to say he simply abandoned you until it was convenient is not a correct understanding of the events."

Fury spun to life again, and Peter snarled, "That's not what happened if it was why…"

Nebula cut him off, "That is what happened." She tipped her head to the side again, but the calm confidence in her voice forced his compliance. Nebula continued, "What you have to do now is separate the actual events from your perception of them." Pointedly, she said, "You are not yourself, and until you reconcile that truth, you won't be."

His swirling anger stilled.

Peter felt himself _stop_.

Nebula was the first person who just talked to him. She showed no concern about his anger and guilt for what happened; she just laid out the situation as she saw it. It was jarring. But it forced him to focus.

Nebula waited until his eyes widened before she continued evenly, "Your father was distraught at your death, but we put him into a situation that did not allow him any other choice. He had to decide between finding your murderers or saving a planet." Only then did some quiet guilt slip in when she admitted, "It was framed as a choice, but there was no other acceptable solution. That is the truth of the events. What you choose to do with that information is up to you, but until you resolve that impasse, you will continue to be angry at the wrong people." She held his gaze for a moment more before she nodded slightly and slipped passed him.

Peter watched her retreating back in wonder, and before she got too far, he called out, "Nebula, wait." When she turned back expectantly, Peter reflexively said, "Thank you."

There was a soft smile on her face when she inclined her head and replied, "You're welcome."

Peter's awed gaze followed her until she disappeared around the corner. He couldn't wrap his head around exactly what had just happened, but his vicious anger had cooled abruptly. And there was a whisper in his mind that hinted at control. The eddies were slowly coming back to life, but now there was a small center that felt quieter. A thin piece of his mind was dedicated to that and, while he couldn't explain what that meant, it was a change.

And a change was something he could work with.

Sighing heavily, he realized he still had a lot to work through. Glancing through the hallway, he decided to head to the gym. Running always helped him think.

* * *

Five days after Tony's anger had prematurely ended a meeting, Anders was back in the Avengers' conference room, her hologram taking a chair at the table the same as before. The difference was that Tony wasn't present. It was, unfortunately, the first thing she asked about. Her cold eyes flicked to the obviously vacant chair across from Steve, "Is Mr. Stark not joining us today?"

"He's not," Rhodey said by way of explaining before flicking his gaze to the collected group, but it was still an uncomfortable situation.

Anders's hard gaze lingered in Rhodey's direction before flicking across the rest of the group. Finally, she elaborated, "I would like to speak with him about this. Is there any way to ask him to be here?" Her spectral eyes ghosted over the collected group before they fell again on Rhodey.

The former colonel sighed heavily and admitted, "No." But when Anders looked at him expectantly, he offered a less-than-truthful explanation, "Tony has company responsibilities to see to and is currently in the City."

Anders turned up her nose but nodded and murmured, "I see." She looked down at the notes on the desk in front of her and just off-camera. Shuffling a few papers, she eventually started, "We can send a team to pick up the prisoners later today. Everything has been cleared, and they will be held on the Raft indefinitely." It seemed like an unnecessary amount of theater to simply tell them that. And the annoyed shifting of a few of the Avengers betrayed that.

The news gained a frustrated and relieved vocal response from Rhodey and Clint. In unison, they hissed, "About time."

The group spent the next thirty minutes hammering the prisoners' transfer and explaining the mind-numbing legal ramifications of what was going to happen. It left all of them with a slight headache, but there was a lightened feeling that came with the knowledge that the thorn in their collective paw would be removed soon. Once Anders's projection vanished, Clint was the first to voice everyone's concern, "Should we tell Tony?"

The Avengers shared a heavy glance before Steve finally admitted, "We need to."

* * *

Peter had been hoping Tony's absence wouldn't have any impact on him. That it would give him a chance to relax and regroup. He hadn't seen Tony in weeks, not properly, so it shouldn't have been any different. But once he left, Peter quickly realized there was a considerable difference between avoiding him in the same place and him not being there. It was almost like there was some kind of safety net in knowing he was there; in knowing that Peter could talk to him if he finally worked up the courage or calmness. But now that he wasn't there, the safety net was definitively gone, and Peter was left to contend with what he had done.

It just exacerbated his significant problems.

It left him questioning what he wanted, and no matter how often he talked about it to the few people he still could, it wasn't enough to give him a direction. He had bits of conversations and flashbacks, and pain and illusions that worked slipped into nearly every thought. And none of it made any sense. He felt paralyzed.

In one flash of clarity, he realized he needed a new perspective.

* * *

"So how much longer are we gonna stay around here?" Rocket's bored voice cut through the murmured conversation. He gently fitted another piece into his project. No one had quite found the interest to ask him what it was...yet.

"We stay until everyone's ready to leave." Gamora offered from where she was playing cards with Quill. The annoyance was clear in her clipped voice.

But Rocket was well used to that, and he pushed back, "Well, when's that gonna be because we're not doing anything right now." He placed a piece that didn't quite fit the way he wanted, so he picked up a wrench and hammered it into place. A satisfied grunt indicated it worked.

"We'll leave when everyone's ready," Gamora growled both at Rocket and the fact she didn't get the card she needed off the fresh deck.

"I am Groot."

Rocket looked between the two. His lip curled up in a snarl before he said, "I mean, is there actually a reason? Who's not ready to get out of here? This place is a drag." The slight tugged Nebula's attention to the argument.

While Rocket was talking, Quill leaned forward and whispered to Gamora, "What are we still doing here? We helped them forever ago, do you actually still think they need us?" If he happened to flick his gaze down just enough to catch a few of her cards, it was all in the quest for answers.

Gamora leaned over and tucked her cards father back against her chest before she murmured in response, "Nebula thinks we should stay until things are right here." As she leaned back and saw Quill's confused expression, she added with a bit of a huff, "It is our fault they're fighting. If we hadn't come here, they would have found Peter far sooner, and this entire situation could have been avoided."

In confirmation of Gamora's point, Nebula finally spoke, "We're staying until Tony gets back from wherever he is." She was standing at the entrance to the ship, her gaze shifting methodically between her family and the hanger. It wasn't for any particular reason, but she felt the need to keep an eye on the door. She let the continued arguing wash over her but didn't engage farther. Gamora knew she had reservations about leaving, and the others would listen to her, regardless of how much they protested. So, until Nebula felt sure that things were on the way back to right with the Avengers, they were staying put. She had promised Tony help after all.

Rocket harrumphed his attention back to his project while Groot looked confusedly between them, and Gamora and Quill continued a quiet conversation; both had their cards turned down on their lap now. Nebula watched them, lost in thought. Until a quiet voice interrupted her.

"Nebula?" Peter's tentative voice filled the space.

Nebula dropped her contemplative stance and turned to see Peter standing at the foot of the ramp, fidgeting with the sleeves of his worn sweater. Nebula's eyes widened in surprise, and her gaze darted to Gamora, then the others before she turned from out the door, "Yeah…"

Peter glanced down at the ground for a moment before asking, "Can I talk to you…please?"

Nebula turned fully toward him and casually agreed, "Of course." But Peter didn't step forward, so Nebula sighed in faux annoyance before stepping down the ramp and meeting him on the tarmac. She looked at him expectantly.

Peter felt her keen gaze, and it made it harder to avoid worrying the cloth on the sleeves of his sweater so much that he tore through it. The sound of ripping fabric caught his, now annoyed, attention, and he dropped his arms to the side before muttering, "Can you explain what you meant before?"

Nebula tipped her head to the side questioningly.

Peter felt more nervousness slipping in, but he forced himself to elaborate, "Earlier, you said that you've seen Tony twice after I…" He swallowed hard and finished, "…died." He looked up at her and kept going, "I think I need to know what happened."

Nebula narrowed her eyes before she asked, "This will help?"

Peter shrugged and admitted, "I don't know, but I figure I can't force myself to believe him, so maybe hearing what everybody keeps telling me I should know will help."

Nebula regarded him for another brief moment as she made up her mind. She kept her voice even when she asked, "Do you remember Titan?" When Peter nodded, Nebula continued, "After you and the others disappeared, Tony and I were the only ones left. It was…difficult for him to focus and move forward. I saw the same disposition when he was with us on Aakon."

Peter scrunched his face.

"That didn't answer your question." Nebula said. She took in a deep breath and released it slowly. Seeing a clear determination and need in Peter's face, Nebula glanced back at the Guardians, now standing at the mouth of the ship before she rolled her eyes and said, "Let's find someplace more private."

Peter nodded.

The two headed into the Compound to find an empty room. It wasn't hard. Once they found a space, Nebula laid out the conversations she and Tony had away from everyone else, either by choice or circumstance.

Peter watched her carefully the whole time, and as she finished telling the story of their conversation on the notibbles' planet, silence covered them. Peter's eyes were wide when he finally admitted, "He didn't tell me any of that."

"I would imagine not." Nebula offered with a nonchalant shrug. When she saw Peter's evident confusion, she continued, "Once everyone came back after Thanos, there wasn't any reason to explain the past in great detail because it was just a painful memory. I would imagine the same was true after he found you in that castle." She leaned forward and sincerely, bluntly said, "He had you back, why would he want to burden you with that knowledge?"

Peter's mind started to turn, but not quite in the way he had gotten used to it spinning out of control. Instead, it was like that calm core in his chest was expanding and forcing him to think about everything that had happened, just differently. Eventually, he dropped her gaze and admitted, "I think I screwed up."

Nebula's calm voice didn't change when she said noncommittedly, "Maybe."

But Peter needed more. He pressed, "Let's say I did...how do I apologize for everything I've done? I yelled at him, blamed him for…everything. How could I even begin to make that right?" For a much as he wanted this to be the end, there was still a huge part of him that refused to believe Tony had no blame in what happened, but for the first time, he had a challenge to it.

"Talk to him." Nebula offered bluntly.

"How?" Peter pressed. He didn't know how to start that conversation. For the first time in a little more than a week, Peter was glad Tony had left, so there was no pressure on him to move too quickly.

Peter knew he wasn't ready for that.

Nebula missed Peter's internal strife. Instead, she looked up the ceiling for a brief moment, her patience starting to wear thin because she didn't have the answers he needed. Instead, she said in a clipped tone, "I can't answer that, Peter. This is a discussion between you and your father. I can tell you what he said and what we talked about, but I can't tell you how to reconcile your relationship. The best I can say is talk to him."

She had said that already but something about that elaboration struck a chord for him, and he nervously asked, "What if I'm afraid to?"

Nebula's face scrunched in disbelief. For the first time since they started talking, there was a distinct inflection in her voice when she asked almost derisively, "You're frightened to talk to someone who was profoundly upset when you died? Why?"

Peter shrugged again, frustrated with his inability to explain what was happening in his head.

Nebula seemed to understand something about his conflict, though, because her voice was calmer when she offered something as close to advice as she was willing to get, "I won't pretend to know what you're struggling with, but I can tell you that I have been afraid of many things." When Peter's eyebrows raised questioningly, Nebula nodded and added, "I would never consider a person who cares for me one of those things. Not anymore."

Peter stared at her, but he knew there was one more thing holding him back. He swallowed hard before he whispered, "How do I stop being afraid of him?"

Nebula turned her head sideways and stared at him in open confusion.

Peter immediately got that she didn't understand, and why should she? She only saw Tony as Tony. So, voicing more than almost anyone else knew, he intimately explained Mysterio's influence and abilities.

Nebula looked at him for a long moment when he was finished. There was a moment when she considered not saying anything, but she had promised Tony help, and she would have to try if this was it. She held Peter's gaze and, with visible compassion, said, "If that is truly what happened…you need to remember the difference between those interactions and the one that ultimately ended in your freedom. Simply from that, it is clear that was not the same person." She leaned forward and held Peter's gaze, "I had a father who hurt me. Every time I lost to Gamora, he would tear a piece of me away and replace it with something mechanical. It was agonizing. But even knowing exactly what happened, I was angry for a very long time at Gamora. Unfortunately, that anger festered until it became my world, and did nothing to change the reality that it was my father, not my sister, who caused the pain." She paused to let Peter take in that knowledge before she continued quietly, "Your father wants nothing more than to protect you, and someone tried to convince you otherwise. Your ire should lie with that person…this Mysterio…not with Tony. It is a difficult truth to find, but one you must find if you are going to rectify this anger."

Peter's eyes started to well up, but he refused to allow the tears to fall as he listened intently to everything she said. When she was finished, his tone was appreciative, "Thank you."

Nebula sat back in surprise but said, "You're welcome?" The questionable lilt at the end of the statement emphasized her uncertainty.

Peter explained, "No one has been that blunt with me. Everyone is worried about my feelings, and while I appreciate the consideration, I think that's made some of this worse." He looked up at her and repeated with a bit more strength, "Thank you."

Nebula nodded as he admitted that and finally said with conviction, "You're welcome." Then she broke her own rule and asked, "Are you going to talk to your father?"

Peter shook his head, "Not yet…" When Nebula's face fell, he added, "They're at the cabin for a few more days…" Then he promised, "But I will…"

Nebula smiled disarmingly then and honestly said, "I'm glad to hear that."

Peter smiled awkwardly in return.

* * *

Pepper, Morgan, and Tony stayed away from the Compound for a little longer than two weeks, and when they finally decided it was time to go back, Tony dragged his feet.

It was another week, a total of three weeks and five days, after their fight before Peter felt like he could talk to Tony again. He still felt the dense knot of betrayal tight in his stomach, but it had shrunken. He was still angry, but he felt like if he could _convince_ himself that anger was misplaced, he could get passed it. Since he had shared most of what Nebula told him with Michelle, she was very adamant about how right Nebula had been. She had also pointed out some of the pain Peter was feeling was probably because of the breakdown of his and Tony's relationship.

Peter had begrudgingly agreed. So, once he felt mostly comfortable with it, he had gone to find Tony.

He found him in the lab. The man was tinkering with something, but he had his back to Peter, so it was hard to tell exactly what it was. Peter was a little ashamed when Tony mumbled, "I'll be up in a minute, Pep." Peter couldn't put his finger on exactly why he felt guilty at that, but he did. Maybe it was because he momentarily considered taking the chance to leave without Tony ever knowing it was him. But he couldn't hide anymore. Steeling his determination, Peter quietly said, "It's me…" He stumbled on the salutation, but something made him trail off instead of including it.

Tony spun on his heel, and the clatter of metal was unmistakable as whatever he was working on hit the table, "Pete?" Tony whispered the name like he had seen a ghost.

* * *

**So I went back and forth on where to break up this chapter, but, even though it ended on a cliff-hanger, I felt like this was the best pace for the story. I really hope it worked!**

**Also I feel the need to point out that bluntness is not always the way to deal with someone facing trauma. Everyone responds differently to these situations but I thought, given the scenario I set up, bluntness would benefit Peter because he was looking for a different perspective. Nebula allowed me to provide that. And since she's straightforward, it was an opportunity I couldn't pass up. I hadn't initially planned to use her this way but I thought it worked out pretty well in the end. **

**As always, though, feel free to let me know what you thought in the comments. **

**I hope you have a wonderful night/day and stay creative!**

**-Lily**


	19. Chapter 19

**Hey everyone,**

**You guys are so wonderful! Thanks to those who favorited and followed and a huge thanks to you reviewers, you guys are amazing! As is tradition, I want to make sure I do my shout outs, so thank you to:**

** \- the astoundingly phenomenal meamaya101, I totally understand and I'm glad to be able to help with a break :) Thank you for the kudos, that chapter took me forever to plan out so I'm really glad it worked.**

** \- the fantastically awesome, NinjaGirl1117, Yay! That's what I was thinking about Peter too so I'm so glad it worked. And I actually went back and forth on the timeline because I didn't want it to seem like it was too fast given what I set up but I also didn't want it to drag, phew :) I'm glad you liked the chapter so much and I hope you like this chapter too!**

**\- the marvelously spectacular xsheepix, I know! I'm sorry! I just had to do it because this chapter is so long on its own. Thank you for saying that and I hope you like this chapter too!**

**\- the astonishingly superb judithalex4099, I know, I'm sorry and I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**Okay, I think that's everything for right now so, without further ado...**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Peter swallowed hard and then asked with a wince, "Can I talk to you?"

Tony hurriedly jumped to accept the olive branch, "Yeah, of course." He tried to pull back the enthusiasm and added almost casually, "What's up?"

Peter glanced behind him at the couch and the chairs in the corner of the room. Gesturing toward them, he took up a chair and waited for Tony to sit. When he did, Peter diverted his eyes. He still needed a few more moments to fully collect the thoughts that were swirling around his head. He silently admitted he felt an uncomfortable security when Tony didn't push, when he just waited, albeit anxiously. Peter watched him fuss absentmindedly through his brows. Only then did he feel like he could start. His voice was as even as he could force it to be but, no matter what he wanted, he still couldn't meet Tony's eyes. His gaze was fixed on the coffee table when he admitted, "I don't think what I said before was fair…but I think I needed to say it…because it felt like it was true. What I told you wasn't an exaggeration of how I felt."

He finally looked up at Tony, commanding his gaze. He saw the hope, the encouragement there, and Peter felt an overwhelming urge to keep talking. "But I think I have to tell you what happened. Everything that happened."

Tony shot him a sorrowful look and started, "Pete, I already know…"

"No." Peter spat.

Tony immediately snapped his mouth shut and nodded. He silently apologized for the interruption.

Peter visibly forced his shoulders down. He was agitated, but he couldn't let that stop this, this had to happen. So, he took a deep breath and looked Tony in the eyes before he admitted, "I need you to know what happened from _my_ perspective. I need you to understand that I thoroughly believed it when I told you that I felt betrayed and abandoned. That it was my reality."

Tony hurriedly nodded, and his voice cracked when he said, "Sure, whatever you need. I'll listen." He was trying desperately to hold the tremors in his hand at bay as he turned his full attention on his son.

Peter steadied himself and started from the beginning. He told Tony what it felt like when he woke up alone. How cold and scared and painful it had been, but how he had known they would come for him because that was what they did. He told him about the first time they had attacked him, how it had felt to watch Michelle die. That, for as painful as it had been, Peter had been able to convince himself it was all fake. At least until he heard Tony tell the world Spider-Man was dead, and his killers hadn't been found.

Tears started to track down Tony's face the longer Peter spoke. His hands twitched, and he wanted nothing more than to hug Peter, but he knew he couldn't. Instead, he sat as quietly as he could, biting down on his tongue and keeping his attention solely on the man in front of him.

Peter kept talking. There was something cathartic about just laying the story out, regardless of how it would be taken. But as he continued, he realized that some of the details he was sharing only came back in his nightmares. He jarringly registered this was the first time he'd told anyone some of these things. But his internal monologue didn't stop his story. He explained his failed escape. How terrifying Kraven had been and how deadly accurate his knives were. But then Peter had to pause because he had a hard time figuring out the next pattern of events.

His story sputtered to a stop as he realized that was where his pneumonia had set in.

Still, he coughed a few times and pushed forward. There might not have been specifics, but there were enough details that he could string it together. There were memories of pain and punishment, despair and desperation, isolation, and terror. The only cohesive moments that stood out were when Mysterio appeared as Tony. And for the first time, Peter felt the tears slip down his cheeks as he recalled what it felt like to reach for a hug and not get it. To know so singularly that he should have been safe because the person who represented that was there to help—and then having it ripped away. He knew the most painful part of that memory was that it had been someone he had trusted so implicitly who easily rejected him.

Tony watched Peter's face contort and reveal the scars that were painfully obvious on his soul. And he finally understood something of what Peter had meant when he told Tony that if he went with them, they would hurt him. It was an incredibly disturbing realization because it was the first time he had heard it from a lucid Peter. He couldn't help but murmur, "I wouldn't hurt you."

But Peter couldn't stop to acknowledge the truth of that, for this Tony. He tumbled over the words as they spilled out increasingly quickly, only to abruptly stop. He tripped over his tongue when he got to a point in the story he had not breathed a whisper of to anyone. It was one other thing he distinctly remembered.

Peter paused and looked down at his hands. He intertwined and twisted his fingers as he wavered on his decision. And then he flicked his gaze up to Tony. Peter was struck by the compassion and the pain on his face. Nebula's voice slipped into his mind. She had told him to remember the difference between the Tonys. Mysterio's had been cold and aloof, unwilling to help or show him any kindness. This was not that. This Tony, _his_ Tony, was looking at him like he had no other compulsion in this world other than to make him feel better. It was a terrifying prospect, but one that reinforced his instinctual urge to share. Without warning, Peter finally felt compelled to admit something he had buried deep in his soul. He held Tony's gaze, taking strength from the conviction he could _feel_. But his voice was still quiet and ashamed when he confessed, "I wanted someone to kill me."

Peter heard Tony's sharp intake of breath, and he looked up with tear-filled eyes before he continued, "I remember asking Ock to kill me. When he refused, I begged him. I cried. I showed him how weak I was, and…I'm not proud of it, but…" Peter's pulled back as his eyes started to glisten. It took him a moment, but he collected himself and continued, "I did it because I knew no one was coming for me. I knew I was just going to keep suffering until they finally went too far and killed me."

He looked back up and Tony and confessed, "Asking sucked, but the thing that hurt the most was that…while I…begged, I could only think about my family. About MJ, and May, and Morgan…and…you and none of it was enough to make me want to take back what I was asking. I wanted to die." He couldn't look away from Tony. He was too caught up in the sympathetic gaze to break it until he finished his admission. Finally, he said, "I think that's when I gave up. I told you before that they broke me, but I couldn't figure out when. That was it."

Peter's gaze finally slipped away, and he whispered hauntedly, "I tried to goad him into killing me. But he wouldn't do it. He just whipped me in the head with one of those claws. There was a brief moment where I thought that might have been enough to crack my skull and that maybe, hopefully, I wouldn't wake up." Peter nodded almost solemnly, his gaze still fixed on the floor at his feet, "And then I did." His voice dropped just below a whisper, "I always did."

Tony didn't try to hide the tears slipping down his cheeks. He had been trying to bite his tongue, but he couldn't help his despondent cry before he interjected, "I'm glad you did." His eyes widened in fear when he realized he might have just said the wrong thing.

Peter's gaze flicked up to Tony, and he muttered in surprise, "I think for the first time in what's felt like forever, I am too."

Tony wasn't sure how he felt about that, but he wanted to encourage the positivity, so he said, "I'm sorry you couldn't tell me that before." He desperately wanted to help, but when he opened his mouth to continue, he quickly snapped it shut when Peter started again.

Finally feeling a little lighter at having told the full story, Peter looked back up at Tony, his gaze steely and sure, if grim. He laid out his requirements, "I don't want you to apologize anymore. It won't help anything. I just…I need you to understand why I couldn't trust you. _Why_ I felt abandoned." He dropped his gaze and his voice when he said, "For you to know that I gave up. That they broke me. And for as relieved as part of me was to be home, I couldn't escape the betrayal that filled in those cracks."

"I deserved it." Tony muttered, "I should've been better, seen what was happening, been more prepared…"

Peter leaned forward and dipped his head so he could look Tony in the eyes before he quietly said, "It wasn't your fault. Nebula told me everything. Honestly, MJ did too. It took me so long to set it straight because you were always the one who had my back and when I needed you…really needed you, you weren't there."

Tony almost habitually apologized but then bit his tongue. It wouldn't do much to prove he was listening if he ignored one of the last things Peter had told him not to do. Instead, he dropped his ashamed gaze.

Peter couldn't watch the despondency he saw on Tony's face. But he wasn't sure what else he needed to say. Instinctually, he realized he needed a conversation, not to continue a lecture.

Tony wasn't quite sure where this conversation was going. It seemed positive, but there was still a wall that he could sense. He decided to err on the side of caution, and finally, Tony croaked out a whisper, "Do you want to leave? I can…uhh…arrange for whatever you need. I'm assuming the Compound isn't a good place for you to be anymore..."

Peter felt that dense knot finally loosening, and the sick feeling he had been carrying around in the pit of his stomach eased for the first time in nearly two months. Peter finally looked back up at Tony and gently said, "I'm not leaving." Then he finished the last of what he had been trying to say, "I told you what I said before wasn't fair, and it wasn't. You didn't betray me because, as soon as you could, you came. And once you found me, you protected me, saved me. You were there for me the entire time until I asked you to leave." He let the gratitude into his voice, "And that should count for more than anything else that happened. I just don't think I could let it until now."

When Tony's sadness slipped into confusion, that was enough to make Peter smirk despite himself. But he turned more solemn when he admitted, "I'm sorry for what I said. Truly sorry. It wasn't fair to blame you, but I think it was easier to blame you than to realize how low I had sunk."

For all his intelligence, Tony still wasn't quite sure what Peter was saying. Sure, he was apologizing, and he said he wasn't leaving, but…unable to reason it out for himself and unwilling to risk being wrong, Tony quietly asked, "What does that mean?"

Peter chewed his lip for a moment as his gaze flicked back down to the rug between them. The continued deference for whatever reason was something he needed and Peter took a deep breath, the first he had taken since he had been home. He looked back up at Tony and said with sheer conviction, "It means I'm sorry for what I blamed you for, and I don't want to lose my dad because of something someone else did."

Tony didn't realize how long it had been since he had heard Peter call him that, and there was something inherently sad in that recognition, but he couldn't focus on it because he was so happy to have heard it again. He was at a loss for words, but his elation was evident as his frown cracked, and his eyes crinkled just slightly at the corners. It was painfully obvious he wasn't sure how to express it.

Peter recognized the problem Tony was having, so he shifted over to where Tony was sitting on the couch. Settling next to him slightly awkwardly, Peter watched Tony follow his movement, only to unconsciously scoot back when Peter sat too close. Peter felt a shot of his own guilt at that. He murmured, "Thank you for everything you've done for me. MJ and Nebula told me what happened after…I…died. Or at least after you thought I died. That had to have been terrible. I can't even imagine dealing with that. And then everything you've done since you saved me and…I didn't make anything easy on you. I wish I had a better expression for it, but I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, dad." Without another word, Peter leaned forward and hugged Tony.

It took Tony a second to figure out what was going on, but once he did, he quickly returned the gesture, wrapping his arms tightly, desperately around his son's shoulders. He choked a bit on his tears, but he refused to let them fall as he thanked the gods for this change.

Eventually, they pulled apart, and Tony laid his hand on the side of Peter's head, wrapping his fingers around the base of his neck. Looking him in the eyes, he tentatively asked, "Are you back, kid?"

Peter nodded earnestly before he promised, "I'm back, dad. I'm not okay, but I'm back."

Tony pulled him into a hug again, but the desperation had dwindled into elation.

Peter couldn't help but savor the normalcy. As if there was a piece that slotted into place. He felt more comfortable than he had in a long time because he was where he was supposed to be. He was home. That was all he allowed himself to focus on.

But the hug couldn't last forever, and, once they sat back, awkwardness worked its way between them. For as much relief as a reconciliation allowed, it didn't erase anything.

Tony looked down at the couch for just a moment. The urge to keep talking and keep working through this was overwhelming, but he was also aware that he didn't want to push Peter too far. Finally, he decided to just go for it. Swallowing hard, he looked up and said assuredly, "I know it's going backward, but I need you to know you don't have to apologize for anything. We shouldn't have had gone with the Guardians. _I _shouldn't have gone with them. I should have stayed here. MJ was right. I shouldn't have gone."

Peter scrunched his face in confusion, asking, "What do you mean?"

Tony shook his head in guilt and admitted, "I had a choice to go help that planet. I should have stuck with what I had initially told them, fixed the ship, and stayed here."

Nebula's confession played in Peter's head again, and he hurried to correct his dad, "They didn't give you a choice, not really. Nebula made sure I knew that. If you had stayed here and that planet died, you would have felt horrible. It would have hurt you so much." Then he murmured honestly, "I wouldn't have wanted that to happen to you."

Tony met Peter's honest gaze with one of astonishment, and it took him a moment, but the inflection carried through in his tone, "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Find _that_ level of compassion. Hell, how did you find the courage to come talk to me? After all I did?" He breathed out, "My god, Pete." It sounded almost like disappointment, but Tony knew there wasn't anything this person could ever do to disappoint him, and the look on his face proved it.

Peter dropped his gaze like he was being chastised, and he muttered, "I don't know. I just feel like I've caused you so much pain, and I don't want you to think that if you had let millions of people die, you would somehow feel better. Because you wouldn't." Then he looked up, "Getting to me any earlier wouldn't have made you feel better about it. Maybe for a bit, but it wouldn't have lasted. And you don't deserve to deal with that."

Tony threw his hand forward in what would have been an accusing manner if it wasn't for the conviction in his voice, "That's what I mean. I deserved all of it. I still deserve your hatred and anger, and I just don't understand how you can forgive me." Tony finally let his own insecurities show through. His eyes widened as he admitted something he hadn't realized he feared. But, he swallowed hard and kept going because if Peter could find the courage after what he had been through, Tony could do the same, "I couldn't even forgive my _own_ father, not in any way that mattered. How are you able to forgive me?"

Peter listened carefully, inherently understanding the fear in Tony's question because it was the same insecurity he felt when he saw Tony – the real Tony – for the first time. The only difference was, Tony's was long-simmering. Peter took a second to sort through the weight of that comment, and he realized that honesty was the best he could do. He couldn't keep his eyes from welling up when he admitted, "I've lost a lot, and I just couldn't take losing anything more." But that was an almost flippant comment, and as he leaned into it, his conviction grew, "And I _know_ that you wouldn't have left me willingly. It took me time to remember that, but you've proven it to me time and time again, I should've questioned it."

Tony was dumbfounded as he stared at his kid before he murmured, "Damn, Pete." Then he looked away in shame, "But I have to tell you Clint's the one who found you, I didn't even know to look."

"No." Peter sharply retorted, drawing Tony's surprised attention, "He found the room, you found me. That means something. I've had a lot of time to think about this. You're what I remember. That's what makes sense to me. I can forgive you because you deserve it and because I need to. I told you, I can't let someone else make those decisions for me. You've accepted me, you treat me like a son, same as Morgan. I don't want to lose that ever, but I especially don't want to lose it because someone else thinks I don't deserve it."

Tony didn't have a response. There was nothing else that could be said. He was humbled well beyond words. It seemed like he was destined to be eternally humbled by this incredible human that somehow webbed his way into his heart and refused to let go. Not that Tony wanted him to. He wasn't sure he would be able to handle that. Instead, he just nodded in acceptance.

A silent agreement passed between them.

Peter felt another piece slot into place. Questions and convictions like that reinforced his reality and relegated the alternative reality Mysterio and the others created into the realm of his nightmares. He was distinctly aware they would continue to rear their ugly head, but knowing he had a stable reality would make that easier to deal with. And now he had his dad back.

Tony felt more in control than he had in a long time. Without realizing how heavy the burden had been, some of Tony's guilt had slipped away before he had a chance to grab ahold of it and pull it in again. For all his faults, Peter had always helped to bring out something better in him. And that's what he was doing now, realizing it or not, that's what he was doing now. And Tony didn't deserve it. This entire conversation reinforced how unworthy he was of the love this one man showed him. Then Tony caught something else Peter had said. Finally, thinking of a way to work back to something more normal, Tony caught his oldest's wandering gaze, and said, "Speaking of Morgan, wanna help me build him a surprise?"

Peter's eyes lit up at the prospect of working in the lab again – something so incredibly normal for them – and building something for his brother. He nodded quickly before he asked, "What're we making?"

Tony winced a bit when he said, "A battle bot."

Peter chuckled, a smile lighting up his face before he said, "A battle bot?"

"You remember that show, right?" Tony asked, almost sheepishly.

"Robot Wars? Yeah, of course, we watched all nine seasons in like two weeks, I think." Peter laughed again before he said, "You showed Morgan?"

Tony's expression sobered, "Not intentionally. I was watching it at the cabin because…" He flicked his hand palm up in a noncommittal gesture as he let Peter fill in the reason. And when Peter frowned, Tony was well aware that he knew why but he couldn't help but add, "I watched some Voltron and SpongeBob too."

Peter dropped his gaze, "I'm sorry, dad. I really am."

But Tony was done wallowing, "Pete, I can't handle this anymore. You don't owe me anything, and that includes apologies. I watched Voltron and SpongeBob and Robot Wars because I missed you. It was reality for a while, and you don't need to apologize for that, so please stop." He gave it a minute to sink in before he turned back to something more fun, and he said, "Do you want to help me build a bot or not?"

Peter's eyes narrowed before he intuitively asked, "What happens if we lose?"

Tony winced again before he admitted, "I have to build him a mini-version of your suit."

Peter gave a whooping laugh, breaking the serious undertone of the situation, and he said, "Pepper doesn't know about this, does she."

Tony shook his head and adamantly said, "No, and she won't know because we're going to beat Morgan without it being too obvious."

"I don't know, I helped him with his the other day…" Peter gave an impish smirk, and his voice held the same mischievous tone, "He didn't tell me this was what it was for, though."

"He probably wanted to surprise you," Tony grumbled. Then his expression slipped into something comically close to horrified before he said, "You did not help him?"

"I did." Peter laughed a bit before he got a little more serious, "But I think between the two of us, we can beat him. I know he's your son, but I think we can do it."

* * *

They stayed in the lab for the better part of the day. They made some good progress, and while it took them time, they managed to build quite a bit of the bot before Tony heard Peter's stomach growl. Stopping the configuration he was working on, he called over his shoulder, "Wanna go grab some dinner?"

Peter shrugged, his face still smashed into the magnifying glass in front of his face, soldering iron clutched in his hand, but he didn't quite seem to hear what Tony had asked.

Tony huffed fondly before he leaned over and clapped Peter on the shoulder, something he had done a thousand times before. This time, though, Peter dropped the iron and spun unnaturally fast. He came face to face with Tony, and his fear was undeniable. Tony yanked his hand back like he had been burned and said, "Sorry! I'm sorry, Pete. I just assumed you weren't paying enough attention to answer." There was a flash of anger and then annoyance that crossed Peter's face before Tony watched him reconcile the situation.

Peter had been focused, wholly focused. He had been more focused than he had been in a long, long time, so when he responded to Tony's request, he hadn't actually heard what he had said or who had said it. Then something touched him without warning. Peter dropped the iron and spun, intent on protecting himself. When he realized it was Tony, there was a brief moment of confusion as he tried to pick through the flurry of emotions that hit him. It took Peter time to reconcile the horrified man standing in front of him with the terrifying image he had become accustomed to, but once he did, he calmed down. It helped that Tony apologized, and hearing the voice he recognized reinforced it. Peter felt the clouds clear out of his gaze before he said, "You scared me."

"Sorry, Pete. I didn't mean to, I just wanted to see if you wanted to get some dinner. Your stomach's been growling."

Peter still felt a little off balance when he muttered, "Uh…yeah, sure." That discrepancy only lasted for a few moments before he said with a bit more levity, "I am actually really hungry."

Tony tipped his head to the side, studying Peter carefully. He couldn't help but notice how exhausted Peter looked. The bags under his eyes weren't quite as terrible as they had been the last time Tony had talked to him, but he still held himself with a bit of uncertainty. Tony felt more guilt slip in, and he tried to offer another solution, "Are you sure? I could bring something down here if you want."

Peter hated how appealing that suggestion was. The entire experience so far had been incredibly draining. But at the same time, he wanted to keep moving forward. For as emotionally exhausting as talking to Tony had been, he still felt better than he had in a while. And he desperately wanted that. But he also appreciated that Tony seemed to recognize his potential discomfort, and in return, he offered a slight smile, "I'm good, dad. I think I'd like to see everyone. It might be nice to eat with them." His smile slipped a bit before he murmured, "I've been kind of a dick to…well...everyone."

Tony watched his expression fall, and he instinctually wrapped Peter in a hug before he whispered, "They know what happened, Pete. They understand, and they'll give you space if you need it." He loosened his hold a little more before saying, "And I'll always do the same."

Peter dipped his head farther into Tony's shoulder and nodded.

Tony held Peter until he started to pull away. Squaring his shoulders and stepping off his stool, Peter took a deep breath, and when he looked back up at Tony, he looked steadier, more ready to deal with everything. To his credit, Tony swallowed his concern and smiled softly before saying, "Whatever we do is up to you, Pete. You just let me know."

Peter's eyes flicked between Tony and the floor a few times. He was trying to figure out whether he really could handle seeing everyone. Finally, he decided on moving forward, "I think I'd like to see everyone."

Tony's gaze shone with pride before he said, "I bet we could talk them into that." Then he called up, "FRIDAY, where is everybody?"

The voice was almost confused, "Throughout the Compound, are you looking for anyone in particular?"

"Everyone. It's time for dinner." Tony said, flashing a smirk at his AI. Then he continued, "Tell them we're having…" Tony looked at Peter expectantly.

Peter took a second to think about it before he murmured, "Pizza."

Tony called back up to FRIDAY, "Pizza, and it'll be here as soon as you order the normal for delivery."

"Of course, boss." It was the closest the AI ever got to annoyed.

* * *

They worked for another hour and a half. Ordering pizza to the Compound always took longer than normal, but Tony always tipped well for the effort.

They took the elevator up together, but when Tony stepped out, he noticed Peter stayed a couple of steps behind him. Before they made it too far, Tony turned back, and gently urged, "Come on, Pete. I promise they're going to be so happy to see you that they're not even going to think about anything else."

Peter nodded hesitantly but didn't move forward. So, Tony slipped back to his side and slung his arm around Peter's shoulders. He tugged him close, offering the protection he hadn't been able to before. Fortunately (or unfortunately, if guilt were speaking), this time, there was no threat to defend him from. Instead, Tony offered the comfort and support Peter needed.

Tony felt Peter square his shoulders under his arm and hold his head high. Tony felt that swell of pride again when he finally knew Peter was going to be alright. It would still take time, but they would make it.

As they stepped into the room, some of the others were already waiting. They were lounging on the couches, but there was an air of nervousness that undercut the visual relaxation. Tony realized it had actually been a while since he had seen most of them without a frown or a snarled statement. Suddenly, that fear Peter had expressed hit him too. But he refused to acknowledge it, or at least let it control anything because that wouldn't benefit anyone.

A few eyes flicked up toward them, but there was no immediate reaction. Instead, the owners glanced back down for a brief moment before looking back up again in surprise. Clint was the first to notice, and he dropped forward off the ottoman he had his feet kicked upon. He jostled Wanda when he did, and her gaze turned from a scowl into shock when she followed his gaze.

Slowly, the rest of them followed suit. There was a moment of tension that passed between the pair just off the living room, and the Avengers gathered within. It built and built for a few moments before it...snapped. No particular movement or expression caused it, but it was obvious when relief vibrated through the room. Without comment, Tony and Peter stepped down into the living room and settled in. It wasn't instantaneous comfort, and there was still an awkwardness that accompanied interactions and conversations, but Tony had been right.

It was nice to know that somethings didn't change.

* * *

**Alright, so I'm thinking one more wrap-up chapter on this story because Peter's not quite back yet, and I need to write that to make sure it feels done, but for the most part, everyone's finally starting to heal. I hope this reconciliation worked! This is one of the most nerve-wracking chapters I've written and posted in a while because of the build-up to it. Hopefully you enjoyed it!**

**Feel free to let me know what you thought in the reviews. **

**I hope you have a wonderful night/day and stay creative!**

**\- Lily**


	20. Chapter 20

**Hey everyone, **

**Alrighty, we're finally here, the last chapter of this story. For whatever reason, as always, with my endings, I'm a little nervous about publishing it, but I genuinely do hope you enjoy it. I want to say a final thank you to those of you who favorited and followed, again, it is really awesome to see those notifications come up. And I especially want to say thank you to my amazing reviewers. You guys are fantastic! So thank you to:**

** \- the astoundingly stunning xsheepix, I'm so glad the build-up worked! And I'm glad you loved the progress, I kind of wanted it to go from slow to a quick jump as Peter figured more things out :) Hopefully, this wrap-up chapter works too!**

** \- the tremendously stellar meamaya101, I'm so sorry! I just felt like this is the point to wrap it up, but I'm thrilled you've enjoyed the story so much :) I hope this chapter works for you too!**

** \- the fantastically brilliant ****judithalex4099, Oh that was such a sweet thing to say! Thank you so much! I was so nervous about that payoff and to read that made my night. I hope you enjoy this last chapter as well!**

**Thank you again for the support and the comments throughout the entirety of this story. You guys are all amazing! So, without further ado...**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Pepper, Morgan, Michelle, and May arrived not too long after Peter and Tony. The elevator dinged before the doors slid open and revealed the four, who radiated the same trepidation that had colored the initial interactions between the Avengers. Pepper, and to a slighter extent, Michelle, were able to hide their nerves, their shoulders were back, and their heads held high. May's nervousness was a bit more evident on her expressive face. But Morgan stole everyone's attention because he was a bundle of bouncing nerves. He fidgeted where he stood between Pepper and Michelle. It was apparent that it was taking all his self-control to stay where he was, at least until his tip-toed gaze landed on Peter and Tony.

Morgan's eyes locked on and refused to leave. After only a few moments, it was evident he was watching them for the discomfort he had come to associate with their relationship. Both Tony and Peter visibly squirmed under his gaze, but when he apparently didn't see what he was expecting, a broad smile broke across his face, and he slipped away from Pepper and Michelle. He darted over to the couch and plopped into the too-small space between Peter and Tony before shooting Peter a look full of exaggerated suspicion. After a moment, he asked, "You forgave him?"

Peter couldn't help the incredible guilt that struck him. He had known Morgan was aware of the strain on their relationship, he had brought it up a few times, but the apparently profound depth of that knowledge was something Peter hadn't realized. He couldn't take his gaze off Morgan as he choked back his culpability and nodded. His voice cracked when he said, "Yeah, I did." He flicked his eyes up to Tony in conformation before he looked back at Morgan and said sincerely, "I figured it was about time."

The others quietly slipped into some of the open chairs but didn't disrupt the necessary scene happening on the other side of the living room.

Morgan nodded warily, suddenly serious as he regarded Peter. Then without another word, his attention diverted to Tony, and instead of suspicion, he affected a disapproving air. It echoed in his voice when he asked, "Did you tell him you were sorry?"

Tony chuckled nervously at the precociousness of his son before he muttered, "I did." It was only a small lie, and the outcome was the same, but Tony was secretly thankful Morgan didn't know as much as he thought he did.

Morgan appraised him for a moment more before he said approvingly, "Good. I hated that you were fighting." Then he leaned over and wrapped his arms tightly around Peter's neck. Squeezing hard, he showed his gratitude the best way he knew how. Once he pulled away, he leaned over and did the same to Tony.

And that was it.

That was the end of the conversation.

Morgan bluntly laid out the exact problem and the solution in those simple interactions. And it helped. Peter looked up at Tony with wide eyes that clearly laid out his sorrow and guilt but also the hope that they had finally found a positive tipping point. This was a chance to remember their world before the rift that had threatened to tear them apart. And that was what they needed to hold on to. Tony reached across the back of the couch and clasped Peter's shoulder, sharing the same unspoken revelations and hope. Then Morgan provided a distraction as his gaze snapped to Peter. Ignoring the turmoil on his face, Morgan started excitedly talking, "Do you remember that robot you helped me with?"

The question almost caused Peter whiplash, but it was a welcome digression that he quickly accepted. Peter hesitated for a moment as he processed Morgan's excitement before he gave a slightly delayed snort of a laugh that he tried to cover with a poorly concealed cough when Tony's eyes went wide. Peter forced some of the humor out of his reaction, but still encouraged Morgan's enthusiasm, "Yeah, of course, it'll be awesome once we get it finished." Peter did not miss the way Tony's hand tightened nervously on his shoulder.

But Morgan was too invested in his story to notice, "I added more to it, it has this big flat platform powered by hydraulics...all I have to do is get it under another robot, and that'll flip it over. Because if you flip the other one over, you can win."

Peter did his best to look confused when he egged the conversation on, "Win? I thought we were just building a robot?"

Morgan started to practically bounce in his seat when Peter asked that. He glanced at Tony, who looked mortified this was coming out now - in front of the others - but mostly in front of Pepper. He knew she didn't mind him encouraging the construction, but if Morgan revealed the prize, he was going to hear about it. Tossing his hand through his hair in the way he always did when he got nervous, Tony flicked his gaze over to Pepper's confusion and mentally took a deep breath, that he could work with. But then Morgan answered Peter's pointed question, "It's to beat dad's."

And Pepper's eyes narrowed suspiciously as she turned her head to the side.

It was all swept away when Morgan's eyes got really wide, and he excitedly asked, "Did you ever see Robot Wars?"

Peter nodded, his smile widening as he explained, "I have. Dad and I used to watch it a lot." He tipped his chin absentmindedly up to Tony when he said that, but then he added, "We haven't ever built robots to try it though..."

Morgan's eyes widened comically farther, but there was almost a sadness in his voice when he said, "I caught him watching it at the cabin, and when I asked him about it, he told me we could have a robot battle." It was obvious he understood why Tony had been watching the show in the first place, but the sadness fizzled as quickly as it appeared when his face lit up with a new angle, "Do you want to build one too? We could battle all of them!

Peter smiled wide at that. It had been a while since he had felt home...home but this, this was normal, and it felt better than he thought it would. Encouraging Morgan's plan, he agreed, "Of course, I'd love that."

And he was off. Morgan started talking about the logistics of having three bots and what they would have to do with the ring, asking the others if they would want to watch too. Naturally, they all agreed. The Avengers had a hard time saying no to Peter. For Morgan, it was almost universally impossible. But suddenly, Morgan's enthusiasm dimmed, and he looked up at Tony with round, worried eyes, "I only have to beat you to get the suit, right?"

Tony felt Pepper's eyes zero in on him, and he had to actively work to ignore her gaze.

Peter saw the woman's reaction but knew her well enough to know Tony would hear about this when there weren't a bunch of people in the room. Even with that, it seemed like the rest of the Avengers had an idea of what she was thinking because Clint had a broad smile on this face, and the others were trying to conceal varying degrees of smirks. Peter couldn't help but innocently ask, "What suit?" He quickly buried the grin that formed when Tony directed his annoyance in his direction.

However, Tony hurried to take advantage of this new development, "You know if you invite him to the competition, I think the prizes have to apply to him as well."

Morgan harrumphed at the news, forgetting Peter's question, but the brooding was brief before he assured with true Stark confidence, "That's okay, I'll just have to beat him too."

Tony and Peter both pulled their heads back in surprise, and Tony, momentarily forgetting Pepper's palpable exasperation, said with amusement, "Oh, you will, will you?"

"Yup," Morgan said proudly, popping the "p" like Tony did from time to time.

Peter laughed at the interaction, and confidently said with a shrug, "He probably will." For a brief moment, he considered how nice it felt to just laugh at a situation without worrying about the implications or any potential dangers that could be around the corner. But he acknowledged that thought and let it pass. He wanted just to be...here.

As the robot conversation petered out, other smaller conversations started up again as the group waited on dinner. They didn't have to wait long before the elevator doors slid open and revealed Rhodey, Wanda, and the rest of the Guardians weighed down with pizza boxes. It only took them a brief minute to adjust to the altogether more jovial atmosphere in the room. As soon as the boxes were set down, they were raided, and the room devolved into varied conversations and stories as they readjusted to their world. And for the first time in weeks, they just had dinner together.

No one was in a hospital bed.

No one harbored buried fear of the others.

No one questioned their allegiance to one another.

They stayed that way for the better part of the night. When they finally sleepwalked back to their rooms, it was apparent that the world had shifted a little closer to right.

* * *

As the weeks went by, Peter got better. He still had terrible nightmares that still woke Michelle up, but it was easier to move past them with her help. And instead of staying awake for the rest of the night, he managed to fall back to sleep most of the time. And those times when he couldn't, Tony somehow always found him.

He still had flashbacks. Awful flashbacks. But he finally had the support he needed, or more precisely, he allowed himself to accept the support he had, finally moving far enough past the fear to accept what he needed.

And slowly...slowly, Peter found himself again.

While Peter healed, so did Tony. It helped him immensely to be able to help Peter in a way that he remembered. And while Tony recognized the selfishness of that realization, it still went a long way in quieting Tony's own insecurities. Although he did order FRIDAY to warn him if Peter was out of bed wandering around so that he could be there to help.

Always there to help.

They rebuilt their relationship and worked past the fear and the blame. It took patience, but for the first time since Peter had come home, he and Tony were on the same page. That was incredibly helpful. It continued to reinforce the narrative Peter was building in his mind, that there was a difference between Mysterio's Iron Man and Tony's. A distinction Peter quickly learned helped him escape some of the darker nightmares and flashbacks. As that narrative was reinforced, he built on it with gusto.

Eventually, life returned to something resembling normal. Which meant Peter slowly got back to work. He was still working out of the Compound because he could, and it was reassuring to be in a place that was so distinctly home. But with how long he had been out of work, it also meant he was rusty, and one day, he got stuck on something he was configuring, so he ventured out to find Tony. However, the longer he looked for him, the more obvious it was that he didn't know where he was and for a moment, that caused an illogical, horrible fear to grip his mind. Driven by a blend of fear and curiosity, Peter searched the regular places - the lab, the Stark floor, the Avengers' level, the main conference rooms - everywhere he would typically find his dad. But when Tony didn't suddenly appear, Peter's curiosity warped into fear-fueled frustration, and he called up to the ceiling, "FRIDAY, where is everyone?"

"They are currently in the conference room in hanger B."

That location dredged up some old memories Peter wasn't quite ready for, things he hadn't thought about for a while. But he did let out a breath once he knew Tony's location. His fear satiated, concern blended with his curiosity when he asked, "Why are they in the hanger?"

"They are leaving to deal with stolen Hammer-tech that was found in a remote warehouse in Utah."

Peter was suddenly struck by an overwhelming sense of sorrow and sadness. He quietly voiced it, "Why didn't anyone say anything to me?" The question surprised him, and while it wasn't something he had meant to say out loud, FRIDAY heard it and answered with a gentle candidness, "I would imagine that boss doesn't want you to have to deal with a mission yet. He's worried how something like that would affect you."

For a moment, Peter felt a flash of anger, but he squashed it quickly. He reminded himself that his dad and the others were worried about his state of mind; that the reason they hadn't told him wasn't that they wanted to leave him behind but because they cared about him. They were trying to protect him. While that realization calmed his anger, there was a quieter vein of determination that strengthened in the background. It had been a while since he had thought about missions. About going out and doing what he needed to, to protect someone else. It reframed something he hadn't been able to contemplate in a while.

He was Spider-Man.

He was still Spider-Man.

Realization is a hard thing, and with the acknowledgment of that simple fact, Peter admitted he had been out of that world for nearly six months. That was a long time to be out of his neighborhood and away from the Avengers. But until this point, it had been frightening even to consider going back. He knew he could have asked the others for help, but there was a level of terror that came with putting them in the line of fire for his well-being. He was terrified he wouldn't be able to watch their backs. That he would get them killed. It was probably irrational, but after what happened, he figured he deserved a chance to be a little irrational.

Still, he was Spider-Man.

As that thought swirled through his mind, he let that determination build. And before he knew it, he at the door to the meeting room just outside the hanger. Without waiting, he opened the door with a confidence he didn't feel, and when that failed, he stumbled only slightly but managed to square his shoulders and meet everyone's surprised gaze. Tony recovered first and, with a hint of nervousness, asked, "Whatcha doin' Pete?" His brow furrowed in confusion, but there was a sneaking knowledge in his posture proved he already knew the answer.

Being spoken to helped break Peter's self-consciousness, and he squared his shoulders, "I'm helping. With whatever this is, I want to help."

Tony's suddenly anxious gaze shot across the table to anyone who would back him up. The other's met his gaze, but he didn't see any guaranteed support. Lacking backup, Tony heavily sighed and gestured at one of the open chairs. Distraction settled, Sam continued laying out the information they needed to deal with the threat. Once he finished, the group stood with minimal conversation and headed to the ready room.

Tony touched Peter's arm as he stepped passed. When Peter turned, Tony's voice was quiet but concerned when he said, "Can I talk to you, Pete?" Peter nodded, and Tony waited for the others to file out the room completely. It was possible to hear their tension easying as the minimal conversation fell away and louder, teasing voices started in the hallway. Unfortunately, that didn't extend to the two left in the room. Once they knew they were on their own, Tony met Peter's gaze and quietly asked, "Are you sure you want to go?"

Peter looked toward where the others had disappeared before he looked back at his dad. He bit his lip and forced a pseudo-confident response, "Yes." Then he elaborated, "I need to go. I have to help with something."

"Pete…" Tony started warily. He wanted Peter to be anywhere else, even if he wasn't able to voice the reason why adequately.

Peter heard the concern in Tony's voice, and he realized that if his dad asked him to stay back, he would have a hard time denying it. So instead, he pled for understanding, "Please, don't fight me on this, dad. I _need_ to do this. I can't keep hiding."

Tony bit his tongue and forced his remark back down. He knew Peter was well beyond the age when he could ask him to do something, and, by virtue of their relationship, it would work. And he had no right to deny him the choice, so instead, he asked once more, with more conviction, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Peter appreciated the choice, and he replied without hesitation, "Yes." Even if he felt the nerves creeping up the moment, the single syllable left his mouth.

* * *

It turned out to be a slog of a fight.

The defenders were dug in and prepared for an attack. From the beginning, the Avengers were forced to fight. The plan had been to split into teams once they made it into the overly large, multi-roomed storehouse, but the initial fight on the ground saw all the Avengers grouped. And whether consciously or unconsciously, each one of them defaulted to looking for Peter whenever they had a brief moment. But Tony spent the entire time making sure he knew exactly where Peter was in the fight. Not that he would have told anyone what he was doing because he did trust Peter's abilities, but he couldn't get past his own fear. So, FRIDAY kept a split-screen on his heads-up display. Unfortunately, that quickly became exhausting.

Finally, they were able to split up into smaller groups, each with separate goals to find information on the militia group, locate the weapons, and take care of the members. But almost immediately, each group became bogged down to some degree, and while it was ultimately an annoyance, it did nothing for their exhaustion.

Peter and Tony battered their way into a larger storage room, fighting with a small group of men who seemed intent on keeping them out. It didn't take them long to clear the mostly empty room, but when they were finishing up the first group, another scrambled in from another door. Two men were holding a massive rocket launcher looking device held between them.

Tony saw it first. Terror forced him forward. He didn't want whatever that was anywhere near Peter. As FRIDAY was targeting them, the device gave a whooping bark, and the projectile caught Tony square in the chest. The ordinance threw him back before exploding, almost as an afterthought. Tony's head slammed into the wall behind him as flames licked up around his armor. There was a horrible crack as the concrete broke, and he slipped bonelessly to the ground, revealing a sizeable hole where his helmet and upper body had impacted the wall.

The resounding bark of the launcher ground everything to a halt as the two men holding the weapon tried to regain their footing from the apparent kick of the gun. But Peter's attention was fixed on the limp suit on the floor. Immediately, he felt his throat start to close, and he tried to scream, but all he could force out was a whispered, "Dad?" When Tony didn't answer, fear clenched his heart, and he swung hard at the man he had been webbing up. If he had the presence of mind to recognize what he had done, he would have heard the sharp crack of bone that signaled at best a broken jaw.

At worst, that man was dead.

Peter only saw the obstacle disappear before he surged forward and quickly dealt with the new arrivals before they could reset their weapon. He tossed them out of the room and webbed them to the floor before stomping hard on the barrel of the launcher, ensuring it wouldn't fire anything again. Taking a quick look around, he backed up and barred the door shut behind him. Threat eliminated, his attention was entirely on Tony. Darting over, he dropped heavily in front of his dad. Peter's world shifted sideways as he looked at the damage. The nanobots worked to replace damaged portions of the armor, but the blackened scorch marks still clung to the parts that weren't damaged, just singed. Peter froze in front of him as his fears became manifest. That cracked wall was a crushed skull, and he _knew_ that if he pulled Tony's mask free, those cold, dead eyes would be staring straight ahead. Unblinking. Unmoving. Thoroughly dead.

Still, he couldn't just give up. Peter choked back his sorrow and sucked in his fear before he knelt and tore the facemask off Tony's suit.

Tony slumped sideways at the aggression, but his eyes were closed, not dully open. And when Peter tentatively reached forward and touched the back of his head, it was bloody, but it didn't shift under his fingers, so his skull wasn't shattered. Peter let out a stuttered breath and somehow managed to find his voice; it was choked and hollow, but it worked, "Karen, is he…is he okay?"

The AI's sad voice matched Peter's sorrow, but she said, "He will be. I'm detecting a contusion on the back of his head, and he's unconscious, but it was not a fatal blow." There was a brief pause before audible fear slipped into her next warning, "Peter, behind you."

Half a breath before she demanded his attention turn elsewhere, his spider-sense warned of an impending attack. Spinning on his heels, Peter swung his arm up to block the attack. Determination surged to the forefront of his mind; he was going to keep them away from Tony. He set his feet and ground his teeth in defiance of anyone edging closer. But it was just the one man and Peter dealt with him viciously. Realizing the door was wide open, he rushed to close it and webbed it shut from the inside. Heading back over to Tony, he carefully looked him over. It wasn't that he didn't trust the AI, but he felt compelled to check.

Once he was convinced everything Karen said seemed accurate, Peter relaxed slightly. Tony groaned weakly as Peter moved his head gently enough to get a look at the nasty wound on the back of his head that was bleeding pretty heavily, and he quickly told FRIDAY to reform the helmet enough to stop the bleeding. Then he sat down next to him. He could hear the chatter of the others on the coms, but he couldn't handle moving right now. He felt guilty about it, but he was rooted to that spot. Next to his dad. In a relatively safe place.

Peter sat in silence as he waited for the others to finish the job, guilt, and fear crept more thoroughly into his gut as each moment passed. But then Natasha called out for help.

There was a brief moment where Peter considered staying where he was. Considered letting one of the others get to her. But when her position appeared in his HUD, he realized he was the closed one to her, and the need to help somehow overrode his fear. He couldn't leave her. He couldn't do that.

But he had to protect Tony.

Decision made, Peter lept into the rafters, and fired two webs down at the suit before he pulled Tony up as gently as he could. He webbed him to the wall and the crossbeam, ensuring he was out of sight in the dark room. He took one more look and assured himself Tony was alright before he dropped to the door and tore the webbing free. Then he took off toward Natasha's location.

While he moved, he ordered, "Karen, tell FRIDAY not to let him move if he wakes up. And let me know if anyone even gets close to that room."

She offered an affirmative but didn't get a chance to say anything more before Peter careened around the corner to the room Natasha was pinned down. He could tell from the concentration of fire that she was hunkered down behind a console in the middle of the room. She had managed to hold the men at bay so far, but the continuous rattling of overwhelming fire spoke to the hopelessness of her efforts. With barely a moment of thought, Peter fired two webs that hit the backs of two of the men. He pulled hard. The force yanked them off their feet and sent them flying back into the walls behind him. As they dropped unmoving to the ground, he webbed them to the wall without a backward glance. The other three quickly realized their backup was gone and turned in Peter's direction.

Natasha slipped out from behind the console and dropped two before Peter knocked the third one out. Suddenly, the room was quiet. There was a moment of calm before she stepped out from behind her cover and shot him a look of fondness she couldn't hide. Even still, her voice was even when she acknowledged his efforts, "Thanks." Then she gave a hint of an order, "Let's go find the others."

* * *

Tony had the mother of all headaches when he groaned into consciousness. He tried to move his arm up to his forehead but quickly found it wouldn't budge. Before he could take the time to figure out exactly what was going on, FRIDAY spoke up. "You're not allowed to move, boss. Peter's orders."

Tony had no hope of understanding that order, but at the mention of his son's name, Tony tried to turn again and quietly called, "Pete?" When he didn't get an answer, the throbbing in his head pounded to the forefront, and he passed out again.

* * *

Peter immediately shook his head and sputtered, "I can't meet up with the others yet. I have to get my dad back to the quinjet."

Natasha furrowed her brow and looked over his shoulder like she expected Tony to appear before she asked, "I was kind of wondering why he wasn't with you, what happened?"

Peter swallowed and explained the rocket launcher before he added, "I have to make sure he's alright before I can help with anything else."

Natasha nodded understandably, "Yeah, of course, go. I'll tell the rest of them what's going on." She regarded the man in front of her for a long moment before she laid her hand on his arm and promised, "He's alright, Peter. Go get him, and we'll take care of the rest, don't worry about it. From here on out, it's mostly a mop-up operation anyway."

Peter hung on her words and found himself nodding along as she told him what to do. When she finished, Peter just whispered, "Thanks, Nat."

Natasha gave him a small smile, "No problem, now, go. I'm going to go get the others."

Peter turned on his heel and rushed back to the room where he had left Tony. Leaping up to the crossbeam, Peter noticed Tony was groaning somewhere closer to consciousness. He let out a relieved, steadying breath before he started to pull the webbing free, jostling him as little as he could.

Tony groaned. Every heartbeat shot a reverberating pain through his head, and that built into a rather painful oscillation, but it still wasn't quite as bad as when he had woken up before. He could actually think right now, so he took stock with his eyes closed. Nothing else felt broken. Other than his head. And maybe a few ribs. But he'd had worse. Carefully, he winked one eye open and then the other. FRIDAY had already, thankfully, dimmed the lights in his mask, and his gaze solidified on Peter. His son's mask was gone, and even with his sluggish mind, Tony caught the fear on Peter's face. Groaning a little louder this time, he forced his mouth to form words, "'m alright, Pete." Talking hurt, but he could deal with it.

Peter dropped his head to his chest and murmured his thanks to whoever kept watch over them before he looked back up and gave Tony a soft smile. Peter nearly vibrated with unvoiced concern, but he knew that would have to wait until they weren't in hostile territory to voice it.

Tony winced as his helmet retracted, and he was greeted with a slightly different light in the…rafters? He was in the rafters. He allowed the brief realization this had to be Peter's doing, and with a wince that was meant to be a reassuring smile, he ground out, "You good?"

Peter muttered, "I'm fine." He managed to squash the urge to tell Tony exactly how frightened he was and how badly he had almost screwed up. It took far more effort than he thought it should.

Tony understood something was wrong, but knew he wouldn't be able to keep a conversation straight, so he quietly said, "Talk about it later?" Then his headache ratcheted back up, and he pressed his gauntleted hand to his head, grimacing. Once the acute pain passed back into a general throbbing, Tony managed to ground out a slurred, "Geezus, wha' was tha'?" His eyes were still tightly closed when FRIDAY filled in the answers.

"It appears you were hit but some kind of concussion artillery. There was nothing I could do to prevent damage from a blow from that range."

Peter just nodded along at her assessment, and then said, "You hit the wall, and it knocked you out." Then he almost guiltily added, "I had to go help Nat, so I webbed you up here to make sure no one saw you."

Tony frowned at the information but chose to ignore it because FRIDAY was starting to let chatter from the rest of the team filter through his mics. He winked his eyes open enough to regard Peter before he asked, "Help me down?"

Peter smirked and nodded immediately. Then couldn't help but poke, "Are you getting old, dad? You can't get yourself out of the rafters?"

Tony scowled, but his appreciative voice belied his expression, "Sure could, but this headache sucks." He was trying to be funny, but Peter's smirk slipped, and Tony hated that his scrambled mind couldn't come up with anything more to lighten the mood. But he didn't have long to think about it before Peter wrapped his arm around his shoulders and sat him up.

Peter carefully launched a web at the ceiling and gently dropped the two of them to the floor. When Tony didn't seem completely sure on his feet, Peter tightened his arm around his shoulders, letting Tony leaned heavily on him. But even with all that, Peter couldn't ignore the relief he felt that Tony was walking.

The trudge to the quinjet was a long one because of how slowly they were moving. Tony tried to grind his teeth shut, but it was still nearly impossible to keep the sharp gasps of pain from escaping as every step rattled his brain. That blast apparently had more power than he had initially thought. Peter kept shooting concerned glances in his direction but didn't say anything other than to acknowledge the larger conversations of the group, letting them know that he was taking Tony back to the jet, and then he would help. The fact it was in an uncharacteristically flat voice worried Tony. But he didn't get a chance to address it because as soon as he relaxed into a bed, Peter disappeared out of the quinjet.

* * *

The warehouse didn't take long to sweep, and once the government's team arrived, there was no reason for the Avengers to hang around. Far more tired than any of them felt they should be, they made their way back to the quinjet. Peter immediately darted to Tony's side. His concern was apparent as he looked him over, but once Peter assured himself Tony was fine, he stopped fussing and instead stayed glued to his side for the entirety of the flight. Uncharacteristically, Peter was reserved and only answered questions directed at him. His gaze held a tightly contained craziness, but he managed to hold it together until the team made it back to the Compound.

Tony spent the entire flight with his eyes closed and his head on Peter's shoulder. He was attempting to heal enough to address his son's obvious distress. It took the entirety of the flight, but by the time the jet landed, Tony had enough presence of mind to piece together a rough idea of what he needed to do. He waited for Peter to inevitably help him stand and start to direct him to the medical wing. Once he did, Tony forced him toward one of the meeting rooms off the hanger instead.

Peter allowed the change in direction, but once the door closed, he nervously said, "You need to go see the doctor, dad."

Tony levered into a chair and pressed his hand to his head before he winced up at Peter and demanded, "Not until we talk about what's going on."

Peter's eyes widened in embarrassment and surprise. He nervously shifted on his feet and stuttered, "Nothing…nothing is going on."

Tony dropped his hand to the table with a thud and demanded, "Bullshit, Pete. If you want me to go see the doctor, you better start telling me the truth."

Peter's gaze dropped before he fell into a chair next to Tony and admitted, "I shouldn't have gone on that mission. I should have listened to you."

Tony's brow furrowed over his squinted eyes before he asked, "Why?"

Peter's big eyes pleaded with him to avoid this conversation.

But Tony knew that couldn't happen, Peter had buried too much for too long, and it couldn't keep happening. He swallowed his guilt and pushed, "You shouldn't have listened to me. You helped me. You protected Natasha. How could you going have been the wrong decision?"

"I hesitated," Peter admitted with a shrug. When Tony silently encouraged him to keep going, he confessed, "I stopped fighting with the team. As soon as I saw you drop, I seriously considered abandoning them to make sure you were okay. That can't happen, I can't do that." Then his voice took on the haunted quality it adapted when he talked about something he remembered, "I saw it again. I saw them kill you. And I...couldn't move." He scoffed as frustration stilled his tongue.

Tony's heart broke as he watched the war playing out on Peter's face, and he quietly promised, "I'm alright, Pete. I'm okay. It's alright."

Peter's soft voice contradicted Tony's claim, "No, no, it's not. It turned out okay this time, but what if it hadn't?" Peter sucked in a deep breath and tried to collect himself, well aware of what he was admitting. He dragged his gaze up and asked, "What if someone else had gotten hurt because I wasn't watching their back? What if someone died because I wasn't doing my job? What would you be saying then?" Peter dropped his voice to a whisper, "I was a liability."

Tony frowned, and retorted, "No, you weren't."

"How could you know that?" Peter accused, "You were unconscious because I let something happen to you."

Tony's gaze shot up angrily, the blame Peter insisted on taking made him angry enough to battle back the pain, "You didn't let anything happen to me. We were on a mission, and people attacked us. I got hit. That's a risk we all take. You didn't let something happen. If anything, I'm still here, so that means you kept someone far worse from happening." Tony took a shaky breath and calmed down before he said, "I was unconscious for some of that fight, but Natasha thanked you in the jet, and you told me you had to leave me there to help her." Tony leaned forward, emploring Peter to understand when he explained with sheer conviction, "That's not a liability, that's what you're supposed to do when you're part of a team."

"But, I froze," Peter argued.

Tony shrugged and said, "Okay." But when Peter's eyes just widened, Tony continued, "I've frozen too, Pete. You had a horrifying experience, and you stopped for a moment. A moment. The fact that you only paused means _your_ instincts, not mine, were right. You are ready to go back if you want." Then Tony dropped his gaze and admitted, "I was afraid for you, that was the only reason I questioned you going. It wasn't that I didn't think you could do it; it was that I was afraid you would get hurt, and I wasn't sure I could take that again. Not yet."

"But what if…" Peter shot back, trailing off when his argumentative confidence wavered.

Tony cut his hand across the space between them before pressing his hand back to his forehead and tightly closing his eyes, "Peter, stop. That's not going to help. You can't ask the what-ifs; you can only look at what happened." Tony groaned as the pain he had been keeping at bay started to creep back in. Still, he forced the rest of what he was saying out, "And what happened was that you did what you had to do. You stayed in the fight. You protected Natasha, that's what matters. This," he gestured between them, "insecurity we can deal with, but it doesn't mean you deserve to doubt yourself."

Peter shook his head, his frown deepening as he saw Tony's obvious pain, "I don't want to have to deal with it. I just want it to be done."

Tony shrugged and dropped his hand again, determined to finish this conversation, "Of course, you do. But you won't have to forever, it's just right now, going out means dealing with it. So, what you have to decide is, is continuing to be Spider-Man is worth dealing with this part of it?"

Peter took barely a moment to consider that before he nodded in the affirmative and added, "It is, it is worth it."

Tony smiled broadly despite his wandering gaze that ended in two Peters. Forcing his gaze back into focus, Tony said, "Good. As long as you know this is the price for right now, you'll be alright." Then Tony added, "And for the foreseeable future, you'll be calling me after every mission."

Peter knew that Tony should be in the medical wing, but he couldn't miss the chance to hint at something close to normal. He smirked, but his gaze was on the ground when he tried to retort, "I think you just want to live vicariously through my patrols."

But Tony turned oddly serious, "No, I just want to make sure that you're safe." He lowered his voice and said, "And I don't want to find out that you took some serious hits from your fiancée because you were trying to hide the danger of something that happened."

Peter shrugged his shoulders up, but his gaze was still on the floor when he agreed, "Okay."

"Good," Tony said. He reached out and forced Peter to look him in the eyes before he said, "I just want you to be safe and healthy. That's it." He was going to say more, but his injuries took control, and he leaned forward on his knees, dropping his head into his hands. All that he had managed to hold in the background pounded to life, and Tony realized just how badly his head, and his chest, hurt. He winced as he admitted, "I think I need to see the doctor now." He shakily put his hand on the table to try and force himself to his feet but didn't quite make it.

Instead, Peter lunged forward to catch him. He gently lifted Tony out of the chair before he slid under Tony's arm and took his weight. He quietly ordered, "Come on, dad."

* * *

By the end of the night, Tony was back with the rest of the team in the living room. The doctor had tried to him longer, but Tony somehow convinced her he wouldn't be going anywhere, and she eventually conceded to let him out as long as he promised to take it easy for the rest of the night. That meant a movie night for the Avengers.

It was another step toward the normal.

Peter settled into the evening that had been familiar in another life, and he was ecstatic when he realized he didn't feel out of place. As he sat on the couch with his family, Michelle was curled into his side with Morgan snuggled between him and Tony, Peter felt some of the anxiety he had been carrying ease. He wasn't better, he knew that, but he had survived. And his world was still intact. A moment of peace washed over him at that thought. He knew it would take more time to be okay...really okay...but _knowing_ he had help, made that formerly daunting task achievable.

And as he leaned into the couch cushions, Tony laid his hand briefly on Peter's shoulder. Understanding the request, Peter tipped his head over Morgan's and met Tony's gaze. He immediately read the confidence and pride shining through. That moment of peace swelled, and Peter felt his own confidence, and hope, build in his chest. Taking a moment to appreciate it, Peter leaned back and murmured, "Thanks, dad."

Tony smiled softly before he said, "Always, Pete."

Without another word, they turned back to the movie.

* * *

**Alright, so there you have it, the last chapter of this story! I hope you enjoyed it and that this ending worked to wrap everything up.**

**As always, please feel free to let me know what you thought about it in the reviews.**

**I also want to say that this will be my last story for a while because I do have my own fiction story I'm working on, and I need to devote some more time to that. But who knows, Marvel is always there in the background, so I'm sure I'll be back at some point.**

**I hope you have a wonderful night/day and stay creative!**

**-Lily**


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